GERMAN-ENGLISH 
LYRICS. 


JEREMIAH    EAMES    RANKIN. 


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NOTICES  OF  FIRST  EDITION. 


Hon*  A.  R*  Spofford,  Librarian  to  Congress:    "  Rendered 


FROM   THE  LIBRARY  OF 
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trie  quite  mystical  devoutness— ot  many  of  these  good  men,  I 
am  highly  pleased.  Permit  me  to  admire  especially  'The 
Quiet  Acre  Lot.'" 

"The  Independent : "  "  The  work  is  done  with  care  and  as 
much  skill  as  often  goes  to  translation.  The  secular  lyrics  have 
a  swing  and  story  to  them  which  shows  wise  selection." 

Dr.  William  Hayes  Ward,  Editor  "Independent:"  "It  is 
only  by  the  purest  accident  that  I  have  just  lately  seen  your 
volume  of  '  German-English  Lyrics,'  and  its  dedication  to 
myself.  1  thank  you  very  much  for  the  courtesy  of  it.  I  have 
just  read  severa  1  of AWfiflQltyiics,  and  enjoyed  them  heartily. 

Sectloi 


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in  2013  with  funding  from 

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JEREMIAH      EAMES      RANKIN 


•/^ 


GERM  AN-E 


06ICM  8E1^ 


LYRICS. 


SACRED   AND   SECULAR. 


JEREMIAH  EAMES  RANKIN. 


SECOND    EDITION. 


washington,  d.  c.  i 
Office  "  Howard  Standard. 


DEDICATION. 

TO 

ALEXANDER    HUNTINGTON    CLAPP. 


I.  SACRED. 


GERMAN-ENGLISH    LYRICS. 

SACRED. 

BETHLEHEM   AND   GOLGOTHA. 

11  Er  ist  in  Bethlehem  geboren." 

IN  Bethlehem,  God's  own  begotten 
Saw  life,  to  bring  the  life  to  light; 
At  Golgotha,  deed  unforgotten! 

By  death  for  us,  He  broke  death's  might. 
The  lands,  the  evening  sun  adorning, 
!  left,  to  greet  the  lands  of  morning, 
But  greater  sights  1  nowhere  saw, 
Than  Bethlehem  and  Golgotha. 

Where  are  the  boasted  wonders  seven, 

The  old  world  had  collected  there  ? 
With  wisdom  that  descends  from  Heaven, 

How  can  the  pride  of  earth  compare  ? 
From  land  to  land  all  lands  descrying, 
I  saw  them  in  their  ruins  lying! 

In  grandeur  still,  without  a  flaw, 

Stood  Bethlehem  and  Golgotha. 

Away,  ye  pyramids  Egyptian, 

Ye  are  but  gloomy  mountain-tombs, 
Men  grope  in  vain  for  life's  inscription, 

Through  all  your  dark  and  solemn  rooms: 
Ye  sphinxes,  in  colossal  splendor, 
Your  lips  the  riddle  cannot  render: 

What  is  man's  life,  what  is  life's  law, 

As  Bethlehem  and  Golgotha. 

Earth's  paradise  with  summer  glowing, 

Thou  rose-clad  city  of  Shiraz, 
Ye  groves  of  palm,  with  spices  flowing, 

All  Nature's  wealth,  that  India  has, 


I  see,  beneath  your  glory  sleeping, 
Stealthy  the  foot  of  death  is  creeping: 
Awake!     Life's  heralds  come  from  far, 
From  Bethlehem  and  Golgotha. 

Stone  of  Mohammed,  blindly  stumbling 
O'er  thee,  the  feet  of  half  the  world: 

Thou  Kaaba  dark,  the  cross  thee  humbling, 
Thy  crescent  shall  to  it  be  furled: 

The  moon  before  the  sun  be  paling: 

Thy  shattered  forces  gladly  hailing 
The  Victor,  who  shall  give  earth  law 
From  Bethlehem  and  Golgotha. 

O  Thou,  who  in  a  crib  for  cattle, 

A  Babe  wert  willing  to  be  born: 
And  on  the  cross  to  fight  death's  battle, 

That  death  might  be  of  terror  shorn, 
Thy  crib,  all  stripped  of  earthly  glory! 
Thy  cross,  humiliating  story! 

Thee  greatest  then,  the  world  soon  saw 

At  Bethelehem  and  Golgotha. 

For,  kings  bow  down  with  gifts  before  thee, 

Thou  shepherd-born,  thou  Lamb  of  God, 
And  pilgrims  hasten  to  adore  thee, 

Who  weary  ways  have  patient  trod. 
Proud  knightly  ranks  for  thee  are  battered, 
The  world  and  not  Thy  cross  is  shattered, 

As  East  and  West  embattled  are 

For  Bethlehem  and  Golgotha. 

Let  men  no  more  with  flashing  lances, 
But  with  God's  Spirit,  take  the  field: 

Till  o'er  the  Holy  Land  advances 

His  light  to  which  the  earth  shall  yield: 

On  every  side,  his  radiance  streaming, 

Till  it  shall  reach  her  myriads  teeming; 
Till  all  the  world  its  life  shall  draw 
From  Bethlehem  and  Golgotha. 


With  scolloped  hat  and  spike-staff  swinging, 

From  the  far  East,  at  length  I  come; 
This  message  to  all  Christians  bringing, 

This  message  to  all  folks  at  home: 
O,  speed  ye  not,  as  pilgrims  hurried, 
To  where  the  Lord  was  born  and  buried: 

Each  for  himself  discerning  where 

His  Bethlehem  and  Golgotha. 

O  heart,  what  virtue  comes  from  kneeling 

Where  once  the  infant  Jesus  lay; 
What  virtue  yields,  what  health,  what  healing 

The  grave,  which  once  held  Him  as  prey? 
If  but  Himself  be  born  within  thee; 
If  but  from  death  His  death  shall  win  thee, 

In  Him  thou  livest;  this,  yes,  ah! 

Is  Bethlehem  and  Golgotha. 

—  Ruckert. 

ONE   DESIRE   HAVE    I   ABOVE   AIX   OTHERS. 

"Eities  wunsch*  ich  mir  vor  alien." 

ONE  desire  have  I  above  all  others, 
Constant  through  the  changing  years, 
That  of  Him  whose  love  is  more  than  brother's, 

I  may  always  think  with  tears; 
Him  who  once  endured  to  gain  my  pardon, 
Bloody  sweat  and  anguish  in  the  garden; 
On  the  cold,  hard  earth  who  sank, 
And  the  bitter  chalice  drank. 

Always  may  my  eye  till  death  behold  Him, 

Visage  marred,  the  Lamb  of  God, 
When  that  midday  darkness  did  enfold  Him; 

When  the  wine-press  there  he  trod; 
When  the  travail  for  my  soul  came  o'er  Him, 
When  He  saw  death's  awful  gulf  before  Him; 

It  is  finished!  when  He  cried, 

Bowed  His  head,  and  for  me  died. 


IO 


Let  that  day,  ah,  never  be  forgotten, 

Thine  the  grace,  the  guilt  was  mine; 
When  1  saw  Thee,  Son  of  God  begotten, 

Heard  thy  patient  voice  divine; 
With  night's  shadows  on  sin's  mountains  falling, 
Heard  the  Shepherd's  voice,  so  sweetly  calling: 

Saw  Thee  stooping  from  above, 

To  the  purchase  of  thy  love. 

Thine  I  am!  give  me  love's  secret  token; 

Blood  has  sealed  Thee,  thou  art  mine; 
Let  the  echo  in  my  heart  be  spoken : 

Mark  me  with  the  inward  sign ! 
With  thee  all  things  doing,  all  things  daring, 
Living,  dying,  all  the  future  sharing; 

This  my  inmost  spirit  saith; 

Covenant  in  life  and  death. 

— Kuapp. 

BE.  JOYFUL,   ALL   YE   NEAR  AND   FAR. 

"  Set  frohlich  alles  weit  unci  breit." 

BE  joyful,  all  ye  near  and  far, 
That  late  were  so  downhearted; 
Ascends  on  night  life's  morning  star, 

Death's  awful  portals  parted. 
He  comes,  he  comes,  who  late  with  blood 
Did  battle  for  the  sinner's  good, 
And  death,  by  dying,  thwarted. 

Thou  thoughtest,  O  though  savage  foe, 

The  Prince  of  Life  all  glorious 
Within  the  tomb  thou  hadst  laid  low, 

O'er  Him  and  us  victorious; 
Thy  sting  is  broken,  cruel  death, 
He  lives,  he  breathes  immortal  breath; 

Our  Captain  goes  before  us. 

Ah,  yes,  from  sleep  He  lifts  His  head; 
Thy  bands,  O  death,  are  broken; 


1 1 


Through  gate  and  bar  He's  quickly  sped, 

And  wears  the  victor's  token. 
Where  is  thy  trusted  armor  now  ? 
Where  is  the  crown  that  decked  thy  brow  ? 

Fulfilled  His  word  late  spoken. 

Thy  boasted  might,  O  death,  is  gone, 

No  hurt  comes  to  man  dying! 
He  leans  th'  unfailing  arm  upon, 

On  that  support  relying: 
11  I  live,  I  live,  who  once  was  dead, 
In  peace  on  Me  repose  thy  head, 

To  all  thy  wants  replying. 

11  For  death  himself  has  power  no  more, 

From  Me  he  cannot  sever; 
I  am  of  death  the  conqueror, 

Rejoice,  I  live  forever. 
Henceforth,  in  Me,  their  living  Head, 
My  members  live,  who  once  were  dead, 

In  spite  of  hell's  endeavor. 

"The  battle,  yes,  with  hell,  is  mine, 

The  vict'ry,  I  have  won  it! 
The  eye  in  death  can  see  life's  sign ; 

The  cross  and  Him  upon  it! 
And  while  the  Tempter  still  has  room 
A  little  while  to  fret  and  fume, 

His  kingdom,  I've  undone  it." 

Now,  God  be  praised,  the  day  is  ours! 

No  victory  could  be  greater, 
And  scattered  are  th'  infernal  powers; 

Again  God  is  Creator! 
From  death's  dark  chaos  comes  forth  life, 
And  peace  from  battlefield  and  strife, 

Through  Christ,  the  Mediator. 

—  Gerhard. 


12 


ALL   HAIL,   THOU   SACRIFICIAL  MAN. 

llIch  gi  iisse  dich  du  frommesier  Mann." 

ALL  hail,  thou  Sacrificial  Man, 
Who  dost  thyself  surrender; 
Who  takest  glad,  our  woe,  our  ban, 

Upon  thy  body  tender! 
With  all  my  soul  I  greet  thee  there, 

Thy  side  asunder  riven, 
A  fountain  open,  clear,  and  fair, 
To  wash  us  clean  for  Heaven. 

To  that  dear  side,  Lord,  would  I  cleave, 

O,  keep  me  in  thy  kindness! 
One  drop  from  there  will  me  relieve 

Of  sickness  and  of  blindness. 
O,  precious  cleft,  O,  gateway  wide, 

Of  mercy  and  of  blessing! 
O  blood  and  water,  healing  tide, 

Sin's  damage  all  redressing. 

Then  crimson  flow,  thou  draught  divine, 

To  still  my  thirst,  hot  raging: 
More  fragrant  thou  than  choicest  wine; 

The  serpent's  bite  assuaging. 

0  precious  fountain,  thou,  of  life, 
From  God's  own  heart  upwelling! 

Thou  balm  for  wounds,  thou  calm  for  strife, 
Thou  tide  of  love  still  swelling! 

1  reach  to  catch  thy  healing  flow, 

What  time  God's  angels  will  me, 
And  life's  sweet  currents  through  me  go, 

In  bone  and  marrow  thrill  me. 
Thou  with  the  thorns  upon  thy  brow, 

My  Lord,  thy  yoke  I  take  it! 
Oh!  to  my  heart,  how  sweet  art  thou, 

Thy  yoke,  thou  sweet  dost  make  it. 

Close  thou  this  cleft,  and  shut  me  in, 
Above  thy  heart  still  hide  me: 


>3 


Secure  from  death,  secure  from  sin, 
In  every  need  provide  me. 

And,  when  death's  frigid  hush  I  feel, 
Then  from  my  foes  infernal, 

Secure  in  thee,  my  wealth,  my  weal, 
I  shall  abide  eternal. 


— Gerhard. 


THE  ANGEL  OF  PATIENCE. 

"Est  ?ieht  ein  stiller  Engel" 

HE  comes  with  consolation, 
A  gentle  angel  he, 
Sent  from  God's  habitation, 
Earth's  comforter  to  be. 

His  glance  is  so  consoling, 
So  mild  and  sweet  his  smile, 

Soul,  yield  to  his  controlling, 
And  follow  him  the  while. 

So  faithful,  he  to  guide  thee 
Through  all  this  vale  of  tears; 

So  cheerful,  speak  beside  thee 
Of  brighter  coming  years. 

If  thou  shalt  feel  forsaken, 

Courageous  he  will  stand, 
And  help  thee  through  unshaken, 

The  cross  within  thy  hand. 

He'll  soothe  to  gentle  sadness 

Thy  sorrow's  bitter  smart, 
And  chasten  e'en  to  gladness 

Thy  proud,  impatient  heart. 

When  clouds  hang  brooding  round  thee 
He'll  turn  thy  night  to  noon; 

When  wounded  he  has  found  thee, 
Will  heal  thy  sorrows  soon. 


'4 

He  will  not  chide  thy  weeping, 

But  bring  thee  healing  balm, 
His  wing  above  thee  keeping, 

Thy  proudest  mood  to  calm. 

When  tempests  loud  are  beating, 

And  thou  art  asking  why  ? 
Ah!  his  angelic  greeeting, 

His  upward  lifted  eye! 

He  has  no  answer  ready 

For  questions  thou  wilt  ask, 
But  "  Patient  thou  and  steady, 

And  do  thy  daily  task." 

And  so  he  turns  life's  pages, 

Revealing  one  by  one, 
While  Heaven  thy  thought  engages, 

Till  earth's  last  trial's  done. 

— Spitta. 


AN   EASTER   GREETING. 

ilFriede,    Friede  sey   mil  each." 

I  '  OEACE,  my  peace,  be  unto  you!  " 

I        Hear,  ye  valleys!  list,  ye  mountains! 

God's  breath  on  the  streams  and  fountains, 
As  he  maketh  all  things  new. 

In  the  tree-tops,  rustling,  pendent, 
Hear  his  garments  move  transcendent, 
Bush  and  shrub  are  trembling  too. 

11  Peace,  my  peace,  be  unto  you!  " 

Hast  thou  heard,  dull  world,  the  greeting  ! 

Dost  thou  rise,  the  Master  meeting, 
Working  wonders  rare  and  true  ? 

At  his  footprints  falling  lowly, 

Let  us  kiss  his  raiment  holy, 
Of  fresh  green  impearled  with  dew. 


«5 

Ah!   how  grateful  comes  the  sun, 

With  gold  beams  of  benediction! 

Rains,  how  fall  they  with  sweet  diction, 
And  through  glad,  glad  valleys  run! 

How  the  buds,  for  more  life  thirsting, 

Are  like  red-ripe  kisses  bursting — 
Buttons  into  roses  done! 

Through  the  meadows,  fields,  and  wolds, 

Drinking  fresh  of  life's  libation. 

Nature's  heart  beats — love's  pulsation! 
And  each  branch,  each  leaf  unfolds. 

In  the  vale,  with  tiny  mosses, 

Every  blade  a  signal  tosses, 
Every  stem  a  cup  upholds. 

Souls  of  mortals,  burdened  here, 

Nature  in  her  resurrection, 

Like  the  angel,  gives  direction 
At  the  tomb,  to  yon  bright  sphere. 

She  is  risen!  God  awakes  her! 

In  cold  death,  he  ne'er  forsakes  her. 
Walk  death's  valley  without  fear. 

11  Peace,  my  peace,  be  unto  you!  M 

Thus  each  year,  from  God  descending, 
Comes  the  Master,  this  way  wending, 
Clothing  earth  with  rarest  hue. 

Blessed,  blessed,  those  who  hear  him, 
Walking  in  his  garden  near  him, 
As  he  maketh  all  things  new. 

— Agnes  Franz. 

ael  that  god  doth  he  doeth  well. 

"IVas  Gott  thut,  das  ist  IVohlgethan." 

A  LL  that  God  doth,  He  doeth  well! 
t\     His  children  think  so  surely; 
How  can  our  barns  with  harvests  swell, 
If  we  would  walk  securely  ? 


i6 

Heavenward  on, 
Till  Heav'n  be  won! 
He  draws  us,  sad  and  weary, 
When  earth  seems  dark  and  dreary. 

All  that  God  doth,  He  doeth  well! 

In  taking,  as  in  giving; 
Enough  of  manna  each  day  fell — 
We  find  it  so  in  living. 

He  takes  and  gives, 
His  love  still  lives; 
Impatient  are  we  talking, 
When  He  with  us  is  walking? 

All  that  God  doth,  He  doeth  well! 

We  know  His  right  to  rule  us; 
In  famine  may  His  blessing  dwell; 
The  desert  comes  to  school  us. 
With  Him  alone, 
We  all  things  own : 
He  strips  of  good  the  larder, 
That  Him  we  follow  harder. 

All  that  God  doth,  He  doeth  well! 

Life  goes  as  He  doth  will  it; 
Let  every  heart  its  trouble  tell, 
He  knows  the  art  to  still  it. 
If  Christians  we, 
We  soon  shall  see, 
Small  gifts  become  the  greater, 
First  blest  by  the  Creator. 

All  that  God  doth,  He  doeth  well! 

The  field  its  fruit  denying, 
All  that  we  have,  we  willing  sell, 
By  faith  new  treasures  buying. 
Strength  for  each  day! 
We  go  our  way; 
The  heirs  of  God,  He  claims  us; 
And  all  our  lot,  He  names  us. 


*7 

All  that  God  doth,  He  doeth  well! 

He  it  in  patience  taken; 
He  gives  His  grace  in  us  to  dwell, 
Nor  shall  we  be  forsaken. 
Our  Father,  God, 
Knows  what's  our  good: 
He  cannot  fail  to  do  it, 
Then,  let  us  praise  Him  through  it. 


— Schmolk. 


O   HEAD,   ALL   BLOOD,   ALL   WOUNDED. 

"  O  Haupt  all  BJut  unci  IVunden." 

OHEAD,  all  blood,  all  wounded, 
All  marred  by  grief  and  scorn; 
O  head,  in  mock'ry  rounded 
With  crown  of  cruel  thorn. 
O  head,  so  late  what  splendor, 

What  honors  high,  and  grace 
Thou  didst  for  me  surrender — 
Hail  thou,  there  in  my  place! 

O  human  face  divinest! 

Thy  light  beyond  the  sun; 
When  late  on  men  thou  shinest, 

They  fall  dismayed,  undone. 
Disfigured  thou  with  anguish, 

Why  art  thou  wan  and  pale? 
Why  does  thy  light  so  languish  ? 

Why  does  it  sink  and  fail? 

The  tint,  so  late  suffusing 

Thy  cheeks,  now  comes  and  goes; 
Thy  lips,  their  color  losing, 

Fade  out  like  cankered  rose. 
Now  death  is  fast  descending 

O'er  all  thy  anguished  form; 
Its  ashy  pallor  lending 

Where  life  so  late  was  warm. 


V 


The  burden  which  thou  bearest, 

Belongs,  O  Lord,  to  me; 
My  debt,  the  debt  thou  sharest, 

Absolved,  I  now  go  free. 
Lo,  here  I  seek  thy  favor; 

A  sinner  here  I  stay; 
Give  me,  O  pitying  Saviour, 

Love's  last  forgiving  ray. 

Redeemer,  Lord,  confess  me! 

My  Shepherd,  take  me  thine; 
All  good  hast  Thou  to  bless  me, 

Thou  spring  of  good  divine. 
Thy  lips  drop  consolation; 

I  taste  thy  wondrous  love! 
I  taste  thy  full  salvation, 

Like  manna  from  above. 

By  Thee,  my  place  I've  taken; 

It  is  no  idle  breath; 
Nor  shalt  thou  be  forsaken, 

Till  breaks  thy  heart  in  death. 
And  when  at  last  thou'rt  stooping 

By  final  throe  distrest, 
How  sweet  to  fold  thee  drooping, 

On  this  poor,  willing  breast. 

O  joy,  at  safely  hiding 

Within  thy  riven  side! 
O  joy  at  here  abiding, 

My  All,  my  Crucified! 
Now  might  I,  O  life-giving, 

Have  this,  my  heart's  desire, 
With  Thee,  forever  living, 

Upon  Thy  cross  expire. 

Thanks  from  my  heart  I  bring  Thee, 
O  Jesus,  Friend  most  dear, 

For  anguish  that  did  wring  Thee, 
For  woes  and  pangs  severe. 


'9 

And  may  it,  Lord,  befall  me, 
True  to  the  end  to  be — 

Let  death's  cold  hand  appall  me, 
When  I  grow  cold  to  Thee. 

And  when  from  earth  I  sunder, 

O  sunder  not  from  me: 
Confront  death's  dreaded  wonder, 

Thy  footprints  let  me  see. 
When  shadows  are  impending; 

And  breaks  life's  fragile  strain, 
Grant  me  thy  grace  unending, 

By  thine  own  woe  and  pain. 

Come,  then,  O  Lord,  to  shield  me 

At  my  last  struggling  breath, 
Be  Thy  marred  face  revealed  me, 

Upon  the  cross  in  death. 
My  feeble  eye  still  gazing, 

Drawn  by  a  holy  spell; 
Thy  love  my  heart  amazing; 

Who  dies  like  this,  dies  well. 


—  Gerhard. 


HEAV'NWARD   GOES   OUR  PATHWAY  ON. 

"Himmelan  geht  unsere  Balmy 
I  EAV'NWARD  goes  our  pathway  on! 


H' 


Here  on  earth  we  must  be  strangers, 
Canaan's  fields  until  we've  won, 

Through  the  desert's  toils  and  dangers. 
Pilgrims  here,  no  stay,  no  stand! 
There  above,  Our  Fatherland. 

Heav'nward  mount,  then,  O  my  soul! 

Upward,  since  thou  hast  direction, 
Earth  no  longer  should  control, 

Thee  to  thwart  of  thy  selection; 
He  from  God,  whose  source  has  been, 
Sure  should  mount  to  God  again. 


20 

'  Heav'nward!  "  speaks  He  to  my  breast, 
When  His  holy  Word  I'm  reading; 

I  have  found  on  earth  no  rest 

Such  as  my  poor  heart  is  needing; 

Still,  my  path  it  makes  more  clear 

That  I  have  some  Heaven  here. 

Heav'nward!     Faith  to  me  displays 

City  fair  above  far-shining; 
Where  my  soul  ascends  the  ways 

Up  through  fading  worlds  inclining; 
Ah!  how  dim  their  rays  divine, 
As  I  pass,  sweet  Heav'n  to  thine. 

Heav'nward,  death  itself  shall  be! 

Straight  to  home  my  soul  conveying: 
Where  I  triumph,  Lord,  in  thee, 

Sin  and  death  behind  surveying; 
Thou  hast  gone  the  way  before, 
And  hast  left  an  open  door. 

Heav'nward!   Heav'nward!   Heav'nward  on! 

This  my  watchword  still  abiding, 
Till  the  goal  at  last  has  won, 

Earthly  things  on  earth  deriding. 
Heav'nward  still  my  motto  be, 
Till  I  wake,  sweet  Heav'n  in  thee! 


-Schmolk. 


THE    QUIET    LITTLE   ACRE-LOT. 

uJch  he>ui  ein  kleines  A  ck  erf  eld." 

J  KNOW  a  quiet  little  acre-lot, 

I     Though  no  one  cares  to  name  it; 

Where  each  man  yet  will  have  a  plot, 

However  loath  to  claim  it. 
A  plowman,  waiting,  always  stands, 

Ready  to  drive  the  furrow; 
While  we,  with  sad,  reluctant  hands, 

Must  sow  it  thick  and  thorough. 


21 


With  tears  we  tread  the  sacred  field; 

The  seed,  leave  it  forsaken; 
But  it  will  yet  God's  harvest  yield, 

By  glory  overtaken; 
When  earth  with  morning  bloom  shall  glow, 

Each  day  the  time  is  nearing, 
This  seed-corn,  sown  in  tears  below, 

Will  rise  at  Christ's  appearing. 

O,  land  of  peace,  where  comes  no  pain, 

All  pilgrims  journey  thither; 
All  are  compelled  to  seed  the  plain, 

Though  earthly  comforts  wither; 
There  is  a  great  Eternal  Eye, 

That  watches  there,  all-seeing, 
To  lead  from  death  up  to  the  sky, 

To  springtime's  endless  being. 

— Baer. 


I  HAIL  THEE,  O,  THOU  SHEPHERD  GOOD. 


I    HAIL  thee,  O,  thou  Shepherd  Good, 
And  oh!  hands  full  of  roses, 
The  praise  of  all  the  multitude, 

That  Heaven's  glad  host  composes: 
The  roses  these 
That  give  me  ease: 
The  thorns,  alas!  they  nail  thee 
To  cruel  wood 
For  sinners'  good; 
Where  all  thy  foes  assail  the. 

Thou  countest  out  with  thy  two  hands, 

These  drops  for  my  redemption : 
Gold-red  are  they,  the  law's  demands: 
They  gain  me  full  exemption. 
Down  from  each  palm 
Drops  healing  balm; 


22 

These  hands,  may  they  imprint  me, 

This  precious  blood, 

Dropt  for  my  good, 
My  freedom-money  mint  me. 

How  friendly  art  thou,  hanging  there, 
Both  arms  outstretched,  embracing, 
As  though  a  lost  world  were  thy  care, 
Thy  death  clasp  round  it  placing. 
Lord  at  thy  door, 
I  stand  so  poor, 
A  few  crumbs  but  entreating: 
My  soul  release, 
Give  joy  and  peace, 
And  still  this  heart's  fond  beating. 

O  draw  me,  thou  who  there  art  hung, 

Give  me  thine  elevation, 
Although  it  be  felons  among : 
My  heart  accepts  the  station. 
O,  that  my  mind 
Myself  could  bind, 
And  nail  me  to  thy  dying! 
That  more  and  more 
I  sin  deplore: 
The  old  man  crucifying. 

These  hands,  O  Lord,  I  kiss  again, 

Again  in  love  caress  them: 
That  drop  the  ransom-price  for  men, 
And  for  their  sorrows  bless  them. 
For  this  I  give, 
While  I  shall  live, 
Heart,  soul,  and  body  to  Thee. 
In  thee  to  hide, 
Rest  and  abide, 
And  triumph  endless  through  Thee. 

Gerhard . 


23 


A    NEW  YEAR'S   PRAYER.       t^- 

GOD  with  us,  Immanuel, 
Open  thou  the  New  Year's  portal, 
In  our  bosoms  deign  to  dwell. 

Faring  on  our  pathway  mortal : 
Let  thine  angels  o'er  us  brood, 
Give  us  what  thou  seest  good. 

In  our  bodies  and  our  souls, 

O,  thou  source  of  blessing,  bless  us: 
Faith  on  thee  each  burden  rolls, 

What  may  trouble  or  distress  us: 
Blessings  well  up  round  thy  feet, 

Bitter  waters  there  are  sweet. 


Coming  in  and  going  out, 

In  our  thoughts  and  deeds  well  ground  us, 
Let  thy  light  shine  rpund  about, 

With  thy  mighty  arms  surround  us: 
If  thy  grace  within  us  dwell, 
Then,  O  Lord,  all  shall  be  well. 

Open  from  above,  the  skies, 

All  the  earth  with  grace  rejoicing: 

Up  to  thee  let  praises  rise, 

Grateful  hearts  one  chorus  voicing: 

Let  the  town  and  county  be 


thee. 


Show  me  what  thy  counsels  are, 

By  the  cords  of  mercy  lead  me : 
Hold  me  fast  within  thy  care: 

May  the  changes  thou'st  decreed  me, 
Spring,  continue,  end  in  thee; 
Speak  the  word,  and  it  shall  be. 

— Schmolk. 


24 


THE  BATTLE   SONG   OF    GUSTAVUS  ADOLPHUS. 

BE  not  cast  down,  O  little  flock, 
Nor  fear  the  deadly  battle-shock, 
With  which  your  foes  assail  you! 
Although  they  mean  your  overthrow, 
And  on  your  heads  deal  blow  on  blow, 
Let  not  your  courage  fail  you. 

Your  cause  is  God's;  be  this  your  trust, 
He  will  avenge  you,  for  He  must; 

The  issue  He  will  mould  it; 
You  cannot  be,  for  long,  undone, 
For  he'll  send  help  through  His  own  Son; 

The  truth  he  will  uphold  it. 

If  God  be  God,  and  true  His  Word, 
World,  hell,  and  devil  all  have  heard 

A  name  that  shall  o'erthrow  them! 
Their  scoffs  shall  go  no  more  abroad; 
God  is  with  us,  we  are  with  God; 

The  victory  we  will  show  them. 

Then,  gird  yourselves,  ye  little  flock, 
Stand  as  for  God,  stand  like  a  rock, 

Let  not  your  foes  dismay  you! 
God  soon  will  all  their  wrath  assuage, 
And  quench  in^lood  their  foaming  rage; 

His  own  right  arm  display  you. 

Amen!   Lord  Jesus,  take  our  part, 
For  thou  our  great  Protector  art, 

Almighty  to  deliver! 
And  as  yon  ransomed  ones  we'll  sing 
Our  tribute  unto  thee,  our  King, 

And  King  of  Kings,  forever. 

— Altenburg. 


A   MORNING   HYMN. 

Ein  neuer  Tag,  ein  neues  Leben. 

EACH  new  day  demands  new  living: 
Swiftly  glides  life's  stream  along, 
Ah!  that  God  should  grace  be  giving, 

Making  life  to  him  a  song. 
What  would  be  my  wretched  lot, 
If  he  lost  me  from  his  thought. 

Beautiful  the  light  of  morning; 

Father,  let  me  kiss  thy  hand; 
Angels  had  from  thee  this  warning, 

Round  my  couch  to  take  their  stand. 
I  have  laid  me  down  and  slept, 
Living  thou  hast  still  me  kept. 

This  new  debt  my  soul  discerning, 
Lays  herself  an  offering  here: 

Back  to  thee  each  morn  returning, 
As  salvation  draws  more  near; 

This  my  morning  psalm  shall  be; 

When  I  wake,  I'm  still  with  thee. 

Thou  canst  make  the  day  propitious, 
Flowers  around  my  pathway  bloom; 

Canst  defeat  all  foes  malicious, 
Give  each  better  purpose  room. 

If  thy  spirit  in  me  reign, 

Live  I  not  this  day  in  vain. 

If  my  bread  with  tears  be  eaten, 
Bless  thou  it  before  I  break: 

Bitter  herbs  thy  love  can  sweeten, 
Best  are  they  for  Jesus'  sake; 

I  pray  not  for  overflow, 

What's  enough,  sure  thou  wilt  know. 


26 

What  I  need,  my  God,  thou'lt  do  it, 
Help  me  do  what,  too,  is  mine; 

Great  or  little,  guide  me  through  it, 
Cover  me  with  wing  divine: 

Be  through  all  the  livelong  day, 

Close  companion  on  my  way. 


— Schmolk. 


THE   NIGHT   IS   NO   MAN'S   FRIEND. 

11  Die  Nacht  ist  niemands  Freund." 

THE  night  is  no  man's  friend! 
But  if  my  Lord  be  near  me, 
He  will  from  every  foe  defend, 

And  if  1  call  will  hear  me. 
'Tis  He  who  makes  the  blackest  night 
As  safe  as  is  the  broad  daylight. 

On  thee  my  heart  relies, 

From  every  foe  me  warding, 

Forgive  the  sins  that  meet  thine  eyes, 
Thy  grace  again  according. 

Forgive  these  feet,  which  go  astray, 

And  keep  me  in  the  narrow  way. 

There  is  one  foe  I  have, 

Foe,  full  of  art  appalling; 
One  look  of  thine  he  dare  not  brave, 

But,  backward,  soon  is  falling. 
Then,  backward,  tempter,  sin  and  hell, 
Confronting  my  lmmanuel! 

Through  all  night's  silent  hours, 
As  one  that's  dead  I'm  lying; 

Let  wings  of  kind,  angelic  powers 
Around  my  couch  be  flying; 

Eternal  might,  be  my  defense, 

And  guard  me  in  my  impotence. 


27 

In  sleep,  death's  image,  bound, 

Of  death's  last  sleep  remind  me, 
Dead  in  the  Lord,  if  I  be  found, 

I  leave  life's  ills  behind  me: 
Of  all  my  foes,  that  is  the  end, 
Which 'takes  me  to  my  truest  Friend. 

— Schmolk. 


IN  THE   GARDEN. 

li  Du  gehest  in  dem  Garten  beten." 

TO  pray  thou  goest  to  the  garden, 
Take  me,  my  Jesus,  with  thee  there. 
Wilt  thou  the  rude  intrusion  pardon! 

I'd  learn  from  thee  the  art  of  prayer. 
On  thee,  dear  Master,  fixed  my  eye, 
Would  learn  how  prayer  mounts  to  the  sky. 

Sore  troubled,  Lord,  1  see  thou  'rt  going, 
And  sorrowful,  e'en  unto  death! 

This  to  my  thoughtful  heart  is  showing 
That  mortal  prayer  is  burdened  breath. 

A  broken  and  a  contrite  heart 

Is  the  beginning  of  the  art. 

From  thy  disciples,  Lord,  receding, 
Thou  'rt  seeking  deeper  solitude; 

A  like  seclusion  I  am  needing, 

Where  time  and  sense  cannot  intrude. 

Draw  me  from  all  the  world  aside, 

To  thee  in  solitude  allied. 

On  the  cold  earth,  Lord,  thou  art  kneeling, 
And  fallen  prostrate  on  thy  face! 

O  heart,  be  humbled,  not  unfeeling, 
I'm  dust  and  ashes,  void  of  grace. 

I'll  cast  me  down  in  nothingness, 

Like  thee,  in  anguish  and  distress. 


28 

Thou  prayest  to  thy  Father  holy, 
Tis  Abba,  Father !  like  a  child. 

He  stoops  to  listen  to  the  lowly; 
And  1  with  sin  am  all  defiled. 

In  the  dear  name  I  sinful  sigh, 

And  Abba,  Abba,  Father !  cry. 

O  patient  Lamb!  why  thy  delaying, 
And  thrice  repeating  thy  request  ? 

This,  then,  is  in  the  art  of  praying, 
This  kind  thy  Father  loves  the  best. 

Who  prays  well  once,  prays  o'er  and  o'er, 

And,  first  refused,  but  asks  the  more. 

And  what  is  this  1  hear  thee  crying, 

As  though,  at  length,  the  prize  were  won  ? 

Thy  wish  to  his  thus  crucifying, 

11  Not  my  will,  Father,  thine  be  done!  " 

So  should  1  hush  my  heart  and  still, 

And  wait  in  prayer  the  Father's  will 


— Schmolk. 


LIGHT  OF   LIGHTS,   ENLIGHTEN   ME. 

ilLicht  von  Licht,  erleuchie  mich." 

LIGHT  of  lights,  enlighten  me! 
Be  this  now  my  soul's  day-dawning: 
Touch  my  eyes  that  I  may  see, 

With  the  light  of  Heav'n;s  own  morning. 
Let  these  hours  of  Sabbath  shine 
With  a  glory  caught  from  thine. 

Source  of  all  earth's  pure  delight, 

Let  thy  streams  of  grace  now  reach  me, 

Touch  my  lips  and  heart  aright: 
Thy  high  praises,  Master,  teach  me. 

Bless  the  word  with  pow'r  untold, 

That  it  bear  a  hundred-fold. 


29 

Let  the  fire  of  God  come  down 

On  the  off'ring  that  I  lay  thee: 
Be  my  wisdom,  light,  and  crown, 

Lest  some  frailty  should  betray  me. 
Lest  strange  fire  to  thee  be  brought, 
Which  thine  altar  knoweth  not. 

Here,  to-day,  and  through  all  time, 

"  Holy,  holy,  holy,"  singing, 
Let  me  mount  on  wing  sublime, 

To  Heav'n's  gate  my  praises  bringing ; 
Foretaste  here  of  what  shall  be 
Heav'n  itself,  to  souls  like  me. 

Rest  in  me  and  I  in  thee! 

Paradise  within,  preparing; 
Let  me  now  thy  glory  see, 

Feed  love's  flame  with  oil  unsparing, 
Till  my  soul,  with  love  divine, 
Burns  as  steadily  as  thine. 

Sacred  be  this  holy  day, 

All  earth's  vanities  departed; 
In  thy  temple  will  I  stay 

With  the  meek  and  lowly  hearted; 
Nothing  will  and  nothing  do, 
In  Thee  rest,  till  Sabbath's  through. 

Greater  Thou  than  Solomon, 

Of  thy  wisdom  here  partaking, 
I  will  kneel  me  at  thy  throne, 

Thou  to  me,  my  life's  bread  breaking. 
Thus  thy  light  upon  me  break 
And  a  beauteous  Sabbath  make. 

— Schmolk. 


30      . 

IN   JESUS'   HOLY  NAME  WE   STAND. 

ulVir  treten  in  das  tieue  Jahr." 

IN  Jesus'  holy  name  we  stand 
Before  the  New  Year's  portal, 
He  holds  our  times  within  his  hand, 

The  King  of  Life  immortal. 
This  world  is  but  poor,  fleeting  dust, 
This  Jesus'  name,  our  only  trust: 
He  has  the  Life  Eternal. 

In  these  few  years,  so  poor,  so  brief, 

What  is  there  us  allotted, 
But  false  desire  and  anxious  grief, 

With  transient  pleasures  dotted  ? 
For,  through  them  all  we  are  life's  sport, 
And,  then,  its  thread  is  broken  short — 

We  seek  a  better  portion. 

His  pilgrims  to  the  land  afar, 

Bound  for  the  realm  eternal, 
Led  by  the  bright  and  morning  star, 

Through  shifting  scenes  diurnal; 
Through  all  the  changes  of  the  year, 
His  name  shines  forth  with  radiance  clear, 

The  Wonderful,  the  Father. 

Upon  his  altar  do  we  lay, 

Along  life's  pathway  lighted, 
Ourselves,  again,  this  New  Year's  day, 

To  Him  by  faith  united. 
To  Him,  its  varied  scenes  we  bring, 
The  tears  we  shed,  the  songs  we  sing, 

In  a  new  consecration. 

— Samuel  Priesiveik. 


w1 


31 

WEEP   THOU   NOT,    GOD'S    L.IVING  YET. 

iJ4/eine  nicht,  Gott  lebet  noch." 
rEEP  thou  not,  God's  living  yet, 
Soul,  so  sorely  troubled; 
Heavy  burdens  on  thee  set, 
Woe  on  woe  redoubled: 
Only  wait 
At  God's  gate: 
Thorns  will  turn  to  roses; 
Fgypt  yield  to  Moses. 

Weep  thou  not,  God  thinks  on  thee, 

Wholly,  else,  forsaken; 
Broken,  oath  can  never  be, 
That  the  Lord  has  taken ; 
Be  the  world 
Chaos-hurled, 
Often  has  He  told  thee 
He  will  still  uphold  thee. 

Weep  thou  not,  God  keeps  His  eye 

Midday  light  around  thee; 
Chalice  mingles  wondrously, 
When  His  love  has  found  thee: 
Not  more  meet 
Nectar  sweet 
Busy  bees  that  gather, 
Cup  than  of  thy  Father. 

Weep  thou  not,  God  holds  His  ear 

Open  to  each  murmur; 
Speak  thy  heart,  He  will  draw  near, 
Hold  to  thee  the  firmer. 
'Mid  ills  grim 
Rest  in  Him, 
Raging  billows  round  thee 
Ever  safe  have  found  thee. 

Weep  thou  not,  God  loves  thee  still, 
Though  the  world  may  hate  thee; 


32 

Serpent-stab  thee  at  its  will, 
Curse  and  sore  berate  thee; 
Whom  God  loves 
Nothing  moves; 
All  around  reviling, 
Thou  canst  still  be  smiling. 

Weep  thou  not,  God  cares  for  thee, 

Nothing,  then,  can  harm  thee; 
Strange,  indeed,  would  sorrow  be, 
Could  it  thus  disarm  thee. 
Hold  Him  fast 
Through  the  blast; 
Storms,  tempestuous  weather 
Good  shall  work  together. 

Weep  thou  not,  God's  hand  shall  wipe 

Tears  that  are  fast  gushing; 
Death  but  makes  His  harvest  ripe, 
In  fall  beauty  blushing. 
For  He  saith: 
Death  kills  death! 
When  in  dust  thou  'rt  sleeping 
Done,  then,  all  thy  weeping. 

— Schmolk. 

THE    SHEPHERD   FOR   HIS   FLOCK   IS   DYING. 

uDer  Hirte  sterb  fiir  seine  Herded 
'HE  Shepherd  for  his  flock  is  dying, 


v 


My  Lord  is  going  down  to  death; 
For  them  the  powers  of  hell  defying, 
And  sighing  out  his  mortal  breath; 
He's  nailed  there  in  the  sinner's  place; 
Such  love  divine,  such  matchless  grace! 

His  life  tc  ^ave  His  sheep  He's  giving, 
And  tasting  death  there  for  them  all; 

How  patient  He  and  how  forgiving! 
O  heart,  but      ar  his  piercing  call! 


33 

Tis  finished  now,  the  offering's  made, 
Thy  sins,  thy  burden,  on  Him  laid. 

The  Shepherd  dies  for  those  who  hate  Him, 
For  those  who  buffet  and  despise, 

Who,  as  He  hangs  there,  loud  berate  Him, 
And  fling  at  Him  their  mocking  cries; 

His  life  He  pours  out  for  His  foes, 

To  save  them  from  eternal  woes. 

For  all  who  die,  my  Lord  is  dying 

It  is  the  travail  of  His  soul; 
To  heal  death's  hurt,  His  blood  applying, 

To  make  the  bitten  sinner  whole; 
And  when  the  lost  ones  to  Him  come, 
He  bears  them  on  His  shoulders  home. 

He  dies  there,  God's  propitiation, 
He  dies  to  pay  man's  hopeless  debt, 

To  purchase  for  him  full  salvation ; 
Such  love  as  His  must  win  us  yet! 

His  blood  atoning  and  His  cross 

For  these — all  else  must  be  as  dross. 

My  Shepherd  dies!     I  must  be  living; 

I  die  in  Him;   He  lives  in  me; 
His  death,  eternal  life  me  giving; 

I  live,  I  die,  O  Lord,  in  Thee; 
I  trust  in  Thy  atoning  blood, 
O  dying  Shepherd,  named  the  Good. 


-Schmolk. 


A   CHRISTIAN,   CROSS-LESS    CANNOT    BE. 

u  Ein  Christ  ka)ni  ohne  Kreu;  nicht  sevu." 

A  CHRISTIAN,  cross-less  cannot  be! 
Then  why  this  perturbation, 
When  God,  with  grief  and  pain,  seeks  thee, 
Thou  child  of  his  salvation  ? 


34 

The  more  the  smart, 

Dearer  thou  art. 
The  strokes  that  fall  upon  thee, 
Display  the  love  that  won  thee. 

A  Christian,  cross-less  cannot  be! 

Than  this,  God  wills,  the  rather, 
That  grief  and  pain  thyself  should  see, 
Come  down  from  God,  the  Father. 
Since  it  is  so, 
'Tis  well  I  know. 
His  love's  own  hand  extending, 
No  plagues  can  he  be  sending. 

A  Christian,  cross-less  cannot  be! 

Whence  comes  the  art  of  praying  ? 
How  from  the  world's  vain  pomp  to  flee, 
The  soul  on  Jesus  staying  ? 
Fling  it  not  off, 
With  bitter  scoff, 
As  though  to  God  no  debtor. 
It  comes  to  make  thee  better. 

A  Christian,  cross-less  cannot  be! 

Else,  what  would  us  awaken, 
When  floating  soft  on  sin's  smooth  sea, 
Untroubled  and  unshaken  ? 

Down  comes  the  blight 
Of  death's  dark  night; 
The  last  great  trumpet  calling, 
Wakes  us  to  woes  appalling. 

A  Christian,  cross-less  cannot  be! 

Thy  hateful  sins  eschewing, 
It  brings  thee  humbly  to  the  knee, 
Thy  love  to  God  renewing. 
Vain  world  aside, 
Let  God  abide. 
Bethink  thee!    Ah,  it  moves  thee; 
Eternal  goodness  loves  thee! 


Without  a  cross,  nor  would  I  be! 
I'll  bear  all  that  Cod  sends  me; 
The  strokes  that  come,  I  will  not  flee, 
For  still  his  wing  defends  me. 
Then,  welcome  fall 
His  chastenings  all; 
With  Christ  now  uncomplaining, 
At  last,  forever  reigning.  — Schmolk. 

LUTHER'S  HYMN. 

ilEin\feste  Burg  ist  wiser  Gott." 
MIGHTY  stronghold  is  our  God, 


A 


A  tow'r,  a  shield,  a  weapon; 
Our  Helper  He,  when  thick  abroad, 
Like  clouds,  life's  troubles  deepen. 
That  bitter  foe,  and  old 
Still  plots  woes  manifold; 
Great  might,  and  craft  to  seize, 
His  fell  equipment  these; 
On  earth  there's  none  to  match  him. 

By  our  own  might  is  nothing  done, 

Our  winning  is  but  losing; 
The  Champion  comes,  the  right,  right  One, 
The  Man,  our  Father's  choosing. 
Dost  ask  who  He  may  be? 
Jesus,  Messiah  He! 
The  Lord  of  hosts,  His  name; 
He  brooks  no  rival  claim; 
The  field,  He'll  surely  win  it. 

For  were  this  world  with  devils  filled, 

All  ready  to  devour  us; 
Why  need  we  fear,  since  God  has  willed, 
Hell's  gates  shall  not  o'erpower  us. 
Prince  of  the  world,  though  he, 
•  And  Prince  of  darkness  be; 
His  might  thus  far  we've  stemmed ; 
The  Judge  has  him  condemned; 
One  little  word  shall  fell  him. 


36 

That  word  of  God  shall  sure  abide, 

No  thanks  to  mortals  given : 
With  gifts  and  grace,  He's  on  our  side; 
It  is  the  plan  of  Heaven, 

Goods,  kindred,  let  them  take; 
E'en  life  for  Jesus'  sake! 
And  yet,  when  all  is  gone, 
Advantage  have  they  none; 
The  kingdom's  ours  forever. 

— Martin  Luther. 


G 


GOD   LIVES,   HOAV   CAN   I   MOURNFUL   BE? 

liGott  Iebt,  wie  kann  ich  traurig  sej'ii." 

'  OD  lives!     How  can  1  mournful  be, 
As  if  no  God  could  find  me  ? 
He  knows  each  pang,  each  agony, 
Which  in  its  chain  may  bind  me. 
My  heart  he  knows, 
With  all  its  woes; 
How  can  I  be  despairing, 
Or  mournful  visage  wearing  ? 

God  hears!  when  no  man  hearing  is, 

What  ill  my  foes  are  speaking, 
To  interpose  is  always  His, 

Through  darkest  tempest  breaking. 
Prayer  brings  Him  near 
With  waiting  ear; 
And  help  is  soon  descending, 
His  Amen  !  still  commending. 

God  sees!    Why  murmurs,  then,  my  heart, 

As  though  unknown  its  plaining? 
He  fathoms  sorrow's  deepest  smart, 
Nor  needs  our  poor  explaining. 
The  tears  that  fall, 
He  counts  them  all; 
Nor  ever  careless  slights  them, 
But  in  his  book  He  writes  them. 


31 

God  guides!     So  ever  go  I  forth, 

To  Him  my  way  confiding; 
The  world,  my  fear,  is  little  worth, 
If  He  is  with  me  siding. 
He  nurses  me 
So  tenderly; 
Happy  where'er  He  call  me, 
No  ill  can  e'er  befall  me. 

God  gives!     And  were  I  e'er  so  poor, 

My  needs  He  would  examine, 
And  though  1  begged  from  door  to  door, 
I  could  not  die  of  famine. 
He  has  the  bread 
With  which  I'm  fed; 
For  lack  I'm  not  repining; 
There's  still  enough  for  dining. 

God  lives!     Go  to,  I'll  note  that  down, 

God  hears!     I  will  be  speaking. 
God  sees  the  tears  I've  daily  sown; 
God  guides!  the  way  I'm  seeking. 
God  gives  and  loves; 
Then  what  me  moves? 
At  last,  Himself  He's  giving; 
And  with  Him  I  am  living. 

— Schmolk. 


MY    LAST   WILE   AND   TESTAMENT. 

u  Ich  habe  Lust  ;u  scheiden.v 

I    LONG  to  be  departing, 
To  leave  this  world  I  sigh ; 
The  tear  is  often  starting 

For  fair  home-fields  on  high. 
Tis  true,  there's  no  dismission 

Till  life's  full  day  be  spent, 
But  yet  I  ask  admission 
For  my  last  testament. 


38 

O  Father,  God!  my  spirit 

I  yield  up  to  Thy  hand; 
Take  it,  through  Jesus'  merit, 

To  its  true  fatherland. 
By  Thee  to  me  'twas  given; 

Take  back  what  is  Thine  own; 
That  as  on  earth,  in  Heaven, 

It  may  be  Thine  alone. 

What  gift  can  I  be  saving, 

Jesus,  to  suit  Thee  best  ? 
Take  Thou  mine  only  having — 

My  sins,  my  sole  bequest. 
Thy  word  has  bid  me  throw  them 

Into  oblivion's  sea; 
Since  Thou  no  more  wilt  know  them, 

Sweet  is  my  sleep  in  Thee. 

And  Thou,  O  mighty  Spirit, 

To  Thee  in  death  I  turn ; 
Death's  anguish,  need  I  fear  it? 

Thy  temple  do  not  spurn. 
Within,  within,  still  stay  Thou, 

Till  its  foundations  break; 
Death's  bitterness  allay  Thou, 

And  all  for  Jesus'  sake. 

To  Thee,  O  earth,  I  give  it, 

My  body,  pale  and  cold; 
Thy  gift,  now  back  receive  it, 

This  mould,  to  kindred  mould. 
Make  it  but  dust  and  ashes: 

His  own,  the  Lord  will  have. 
Life's  spark  within  it  flashes; 

'Twill  burst  forth  from  the  grave. 

This  last  will  I  am  writing, 

God  will  affix  the  seal; 
The  battle  patient  fighting, 

I  wait  death's  final  deal. 


39 

Through  Christ  to  joys  supernal, 

The  end  I  clearly  see; 
And  know,  in  years  eternal, 

Heav'n's  heir  that  I  shall  be. 

— Schmolk. 


FORBEAR,    MY    HEART. 

FORBEAR,  my  heart,  forbear,  forbear, 
And  cease  from  all  thy  wailings; 
Bethink  thee  of  God's  father-care, 
And  learn  to  bear  thy  ailings. 
Say,  "As  God  will, 
I  hold  me  still; 
He  never  will  forsake  me; 
Nor  will  He  needless  break  me." 

Forbear,  my  heart!     When  ill  o'ertakes 
And  threat  ning  floods  burst  o'er  thee, 
He,  through  thy  midnight,  still  awakes, 
And  walks  the  seas  before  thee. 
In  darkest  days, 
The  cross  He  weighs, 
Whose  burden  seems  to  crush  thee; 
And  comes  to  soothe  and  hush  thee. 

Forbear,  my  heart!     Take  thou  the  cup! 

Tis  love  that  reassures  thee: 
God  sweetens  it,  then  drink  it  up, 
The  bitter  cup  that  cures  thee. 
Submissive  bow, 
Say,  "  Welcome!  "  now; 
God's  grace  is  most  exceeding, 
When  most  that  grace  thou'rt  needing. 

Forbear,  my  heart!     Afflict  thee  not, 

With  murmur  upon  murmur; 
Lest  stumble  may  thy  weary  foot 

But  hold  God's  staff  the  firmer. 


40 

In  darkest  vale, 

'Twill  never  fail; 
Go  through!     He'll  leave  thee  never. 
Nor  shalt  thou  weep  forever. 

Forbear,  my  heart!     Thy  troubles  come 

From  loving  hands  and  tender; 
Through  grief  and  tears  He  leads  them  home, 
Who  make  Him  full  surrender. 
When  understood, 
Love's  ill  is  good; 
To  thee  the  world  must  perish ; 
But  God  His  child  will  cherish. 

Forbear,  my  heart!     If  not  to-day, 

God  helps  thee,  then,  to-morrow; 
He  sees  His  own  eternal  way, 
Nor  needs  man's  light  to  borrow. 
A  few  days  more, 
All  pain  is  o'er; 
Like  mist  is  gone  life's  story; 
God  help  thee  win  His  glory. 


— Schmolk. 


GOLD,   FRANKINCENSE,    MYRRH. 

uJesut  grosser  W 'under  stern  y 

JESUS,  wondrous,  wondrous  Star 
Out  of  Jacob,  who  art  rising, 
Glad  I  greet  thee  from  afar, 
Festal  gifts  in  love  devising. 
Poor  I  am,  yet  do  thou  take, 
And  enrich  them  for  love's  sake. 

Take  the  gold  of  faith  I  bring; 

'Tis  the  gift  thy  hand  first  gave  me, 
'Tis  thy  fav'rite  offering; 

Bring  this  chief,  I  know  thou'dst  have  me. 
Make  it  pure,  and  it  attest, 
With  thy  image  fair  impressed. 


4i 

Take  the  incense  of  my  prayer, 

Like  a  cloud  to  thee  ascending; 
Waiting  stand  I,  everywhere 

Heart  and  humble  service  blending; 
When  I  ask,  speak  thou  again : 
I  am  Yea,  and  am  Amen. 

Bitter  sorrow  take  for  myrrh! 

Ah !  my  sins,  my  sins,  they  grieve  me, 
When  I  kneel  a  worshiper, 

Be  thou  faithful  to  relieve  me  ! 
This  is  all  I  have  to  bring; 
Jesus,  take  the  offering. 

— Neumeister. 

GOD  IN   HIS   WORLD. 

REV'RENT  enter  Nature's  fane, 
Lo,  God's  cipher  written  plain; 
There,  where  the  deep  thunder  rolls, 
He  His  chariot's  course  controls; 
Here,  the  solid  earth  is  shaking, 
Tumbling  seas  against  it  breaking; 
Loud  the  great  Creator  praising, 
Hymns  perpetual  to  Him  raising. 

Lo,  in  clouds  as  black  as  night, 
Where  the  tempest  wheels  in  sight, 

Awe-struck,  prostrate,  silently 

Wait  the  air  and  earth  and  sea. 
Now,  God's  voice  breaks  on  their  slumbers, 
Speaking  in  terrific  numbers, 

Then  amid  the  lightning  flashes, 

Through  the  toppled  cedars  crashes. 

Through  the  beating  rain  at  night, 
Lo,  He  sends  His  arrows  bright; 

Strikes  the  forest  oak,  far-heard; 

Slays  the  shepherd  with  his  herd. 


42 

Towns  are  smoking,  towers  are  falling, 
Echo  rocks  with  sounds  appalling, 
Bold  blasphemers  pause  and  tremble, 
And  no  more  their  fears  dissemble. 

In  His  house  of  holiness, 
Ye,  earth's  children,  Him  confess; 
He  controls  the  water-flow, 
Flashes  in  the  lightning's  glow; 
Storm  and  tempest,  when  descending, 
Faithful  still  His  own  defending; 
Great  is  He,  bow  down  before  Him, 
And  all  earth  rise  and  adore  Him. 


-Koehler. 


THROUGH  TROUBLE   AND   THROUGH  SORROW. 

u Dutch  Trailer u  mid  durch  Plagen." 
"H ROUGH  trouble  and  through  sorrow, 


v 


Through  want  and  grief  and  pain, 
Through  hope  for  brighter  morrow, 

And  sunshine  after  rain, 
O  Lord,  Thy  hand  has  brought  me 

To  round  the  closing  year; 
The  praise  Thy  love  has  taught  me. 

My  heart  would  render  here. 

Who  e'r  my  life  has  shielded, 

In  Thee  has  been  my  health; 
What  joy  my  life  has  yielded, 

Still  Thou  hast  been  its  wealth ; 
Thy  grace  has  still  upheld  me, 

Has  richly  me  consoled, 
When  wayward,  has  compelled  me 

And  brought  me  to  the  fold. 

Thy  love  thou  hast  revealed  me, 
And  love,  Lord,  is  Thy  name; 

Whatever's  been  concealed  me 
Has  shown  that  love  the  same. 


43 

My  will  I  Thee  surrender, 

1  need  none  of  my  own, 
Since  Thou  art  my  defender, 

And  I  walk  not  alone. 

My  way  to  Thine  adjusting, 

Thy  way  and  mine  are  one, 
And  in  Thy  guidance  trusting, 

All  evil  shall  I  shun! 
Do  Thou,  O  Lord,  protect  me, 

Though  rough  the  future  be; 
Still  counsel  and  direct  me — 

I'll  walk  obediently. 

Must  1  live  on  forsaken, 

My  Lord,  Thy  will  be  done: 
Life's  blessings  from  me  taken, 

And  clouded  in  life's  sun. 
Must  1  in  sickness  languish, 

Submissive  will  I  lie; 
Must  I  go  hence  in  anguish, 

I  shall  not  fear  to  die. 

To-day  the  year  is  closing; 

Safe  hast  Thou  brought  me  through; 
New  grace  from  Thee  disposing 

My  heart  toward  Thee  anew; 
Old  sins  by  Thee  forgiven ; 

Give  Thou  me  better  days; 
1  journey  on  to  heaven 

Cheered  by  Thy  promises. 

—  God  fried  IVilhehn  Sacer. 

THE  HEAVENLY  HYMN  OF  ANGELUS. 

"IVie  Iieblich  siud  die  IVohniuigen." 

HOW  lovely  are  the  mansions,  Lord, 
Which  Thou  for  us  preparest; 
How  royally  the  great  reward 
Thou  with  Thy  people  sharest. 


44 

How  like  the  sea 

The  harmony. 
Which  there  from  angel  chorus, 
We  hear  breaking  before  us. 

My  heart  exults,  I  upward  glance, 

Exults  with  ardent  longing, 
And  sighs  for  that  inheritance, 
Where  happy  saints  are  thronging. 
Ah!  what  is  death? 
Yielding  the  breath! 
Cut  short  what  earth  calls  living, 
True  life  God  may  be  giving. 

How  blest  are  all  that  holy  choir, 

Such  joy  untold  possessing, 
They  kindle,  here,  our  warm  desire, 
As  onward  we  are  pressing; 

They're  anchored  there 
In  harbor  fair, 
Crowned  with  a  crown  eternal 
Amid  sweet  acres  vernal. 

No  note  of  trouble  e'er  is  heard, 

Of  sorrows,  or  distresses; 
No  error  speaks  delusive  word, 
Nor  weakness  e'er  transgresses; 
Adversity 
Ah,  cannot  be! 
For  there  God's  love  unfailing 
Has  stilled  earth's  every  wailing. 

No  more  are  they  for  light  of  moon 

Or  light  of  sun  repining, 
For  there  God's  own  eternal  noon 
On  every  soul  is  shining; 
The  Father's  Son 
Sits  on  the  throne, 
And  radiant  glory  streaming 
Comes  from  His  presence  beaming. 


45 

There  they  behold,  O  vision  blest, 

The  Lord,  their  great  Creator! 
Nor  from  His  praises  ever  rest, 

Which  grander  grow,  and  greater. 
O,  heavenly  song, 
So  sweet,  so  long, 
O,  choir  angelic  singing, 
With  heaven  responsive  ringing. 

The  sacred  town  is  all  pure  gold, 

With  walls  of  jasper  rising, 
With  gates  of  pearly  wealth  untold, 
And  splendor  all  surprising. 
No  temple  there 
For  song  or  prayer, 
For  God,  earth's  clouds  dispelling,* 
Is  in  His  children  dwelling. 

Within  the  midst,  a  crystal  stream, 

Wells  up,  a  living  fountain, 
Whose  murmurs  fill,  as  in  some  dream, 
That  high  and  holy  mountain. 
The  Holy  Ghost 
Inspires  that  host, 
Who  drink,  God's  sons  and  daughters, 
Of  life's  pure  gushing  waters. 

The  holy  ones  within  that  place, 
By  love  thus  drawn  together, 
Kindle  afresh  the  flame  of  grace, 
And  worship  God,  the  Father. 
All  ardent  there, 
In  white,  and  fair, 
The  King's  own  love  possessing, 
And  crowning  Him  with  blessing. 

There  kindly  does  He  all  confess, 

His  gracious  head  inclining, 
Stooping  the  humblest  soul  to  bless, 

And  soothe  his  tearful  pining. 


46 

Children  of  wrath 

Saved  by  one  path : 
Their  claim  to  heaven  acquiring, 
Through  Calvary's  expiring. 

And  O,  what  joy,  what  joy  is  theirs, 

Life's  myst'ries  understanding, 
The  fruit  of  all  their  woes  and  cares, 
Like  lilies  white  expanding. 
And  there  revealed 
By  His  blood  sealed, 
The  prophets,  martyrs,  sages, 
That  mark  successive  ages. 

Ah,  when  we  see  them,  robed  in  white, 

The  saints,  crowns  golden  wearing; 
What  can  surpass  our  great  delight, 
To  know  in  it  we're  sharing  ? 
In  that  fair  fold, 
Which  we  behold, 
"   Those  joys,  all  satisfying, 
Are  just  beyond  earth's  dying. 

Dear  Saviour,  help  us  on  to  Thee, 

That  there  we  may  inherit 
That  life  of  rest  and  purity, 

Through  Thy  dear  blood  and  merit; 
May  by  Thy  grace 
Behold  Thy  face, 
That  sacred  place  attaining, 
With  all  Thy  ransomed  reigning. 


OUR  TIMES,   LORD,'  THOU   UPHOLDEST. 

OUR  times,  Lord,  Thou  upholdest, 
Within  that  mighty  hand, 
Where  Thou  our  names  beholdest 
Inscribed  eternal  stand. 


47 

Thou  gav'st  the  old  year's  blessing, 

Unfolding  day  by  day, 
And  now,  Thy  throne  addressing, 

The  new  year  bless,  we  pray. 

Though  portents  thick  assemble, 

Though  dust  return  to  dust, 
Though  earth  beneath  us  tremble, 

Thy  throne  remains  our  trust. 
Thy  word  will  stand  unshaken, 

To  that  we  constant  hold, 
Thou  hast  not  it  forsaken, 

It  never  can  grow  old. 

Abide  in  thy  communion, 

And  make  it  pure  and  free; 
Stand  fast  may  we  in  union, 

Because  we  stand  in  thee. 
Give  thou,  our  path  attending, 

Our  teachers  wisdom  new, 
And  send  thy  grace  descending 

On  all  like  early  dew. 

All  needy  ones  supplying, 

Give  thou  a  Father's  care; 
The  outcast  to  thee  flying, 

Attend  his  broken  prayer. 
The  widow's  sorrow  quelling, 

Appease  the  orphan's  woe, 
The  sinner's  night  dispelling 

With  thy  love's  morning-glow. 

Teach  thou  the  father — praying; 

Teach  thou  the  mother — love; 
The  children,  too,  arraying, 

In  graces  from  above: 
That  we,  life's  battle  finished, 

May  all  unbroken  stand, 
By  not  one  name  diminished, 

A  ransomed,  happy  band. 


48 

Bless  thou  the  sower's  sowing, 

Germs  feeble  make  thou  live; 
Where'er  the  seed  is  growing, 

A  golden  harvest  give. 
Confirm  in  us  the  graces, 

That  seal  us  for  thy  throne, 
Lest,  lost  these  heavenly  places, 

Thy  love  we  should  disown. 

What  is  for  us  without  thee  ? 

Unless  in  us  thou  art  ? 
Thy  royal  robes  about  thee, 

Come  reign  in  ev'ry  heart. 
To  reach  thy  throne  aspiring, 

Though  still  we  distant  are, 
Shine  thou,  with  love  untiring, 

Thou  true  life's  Morning  Star. 


-Albert  Kiiapp 


WHAT   WE    SHALL   BE. 

lilVie  wird  uns  seyn." 

WHAT  we  shall  be!    To  know,  we're  often  yearning, 
When  all  our  battles  fought,  from  sin  set  free, 
We,  homeward,  as  from  foreign  lands  returning, 

Shall  cross  the  portals  of  Eternity. 
Our  brows,  when  wiped  of  soil  and  perspiration, 

Unlaced  the  wayworn  sandals  from  our  feet, 
We  drink,  within,  the  waters  of  salvation, 

Which,  on  our  pilgrim-way,  have  seemed  so  sweet. 

What  we  shall  be,  when  we  shall  stand  in  glory, 

Transcendent  light,  that's  streaming  from  God's  throne, 
The  last  foe  vanquished,  O  the  wondrous  story, 

All  stainless  there,  through  Jesus'  blood  alone! 
When  we  have  entered  those  celestial  mansions, 

Where  cannot  follow  us,  or  grief  or  pain, 
Our  souls  surrendered  to  divine  expansions; 

Enthroned  in  Heav'n,  with  God  Himself  to  reign. 


4V 

What  we  shall  be,  when  trembling  with  emotion, 

That  choir,  supreme,  celestial,  we  shall  gain; 
Those  golden  harps,  all  tuned  to  Heaven's  devotion, 

Its  theme:  the  Lamb,  for  sinners  here  once  slain. 
When  far  and  wide,  through  all  the  heav'nly  places, 

The  songs  of  ransomed  souls  in  one  shall  blend, 
And  incense  sweet,  fragrant  with  Christian  graces, 

In  an  eternal  volume  shall  ascend. 

What  we  shall  be,  when  marked  by  love's  true  token, 

We  see  the  Chief  among  Ten  Thousand  there! 
Our  upward  flight  forevermore  unbroken, 

We  mount  on  wings  of  praise,  and  wings  of  prayer. 
When  like  a  veil  uplifted,  Nature's  dullness, 

As  morning  mist  goes  up  the  mountain  side, 
The  Son  of  Man  shall  shine  in  all  his  fullness, 

Who  once  on  earth  for  us  was  crucified. 

What  we  shall  be,  when  we  shall  hear  Him  calling, 

"Ye  blessed  of  my  Father,  welcome  come!  " 
Before  His  face  in  adoration  falling, 

And  finding  there  our  long-sought  rest  and  home; 
Shall  see  the  eyes  that  once  with  tears  were  flowing, 

That  wept  to  mark  man's  sinful  heart  and  need; 
The  scars,  that  on  His  hands  and  feet  are  showing 

What  He  endured,  we  might  from  sin  be  freed. 

What  we  shall  be,  when  through  Heaven's  habitation, 

With  holy  ones  we  wander  hand  in  hand, 
From  Life's  clear,  crystal  stream  drink  full  libation, 

And  'neath  its  changing  fruit  delighted  stand. 
When  one  Eternal  Spring  all  things  pervading, 

Shall  scatter  on  the  air  its  fragrant  breath; 
Nor  heart  can  break,  nor  eye  be  ever  fading, 

Nor  pain  can  come,  nor  sorrow,  and  no  death. 

What  we  shall  be,  the  earth,  when  we  discover, 
Revolving  far  in  darkness  'neath  our  feet, 

Our  struggles  and  fatigues  forever  over, 

And  in  our  reigning  Master  made  complete. 


SO 

Did  He  not  say  that  we  should  know  hereafter, 
That  all  God's  ways  should  yet  be  justified, 

And  all  earth's  sorrows  turned  to  joy  and  laughter, 
When  we  review  them  on  the  other  side  ? 

What  we  shall  be!    No  eye  hath  seen  it  ever, 

No  ear  hath  heard,  nor  thought  of  man  hath  spanned, 
What  we  shall  be,  and  what  enjoy  forever, 

If  we  but  reach  that  far  celestial  land! 
Ah,  well,  the  craggy  path  that  we  are  climbing, 

Will  soon  reward  us  for  our  toil  and  pain; 
Then,  let  us  hasten  on,  our  faith  subliming, 

Where  Christ  himself  will  be  our  chiefest  gain. 

— Spitta. 


BLESSED,   BLESSED,   THEIR  CONDITION. 

BLESSED,  blessed,  their  condition, 
Who  to  heav'n  at  length  shall  come; 
They  shall  reap  in  Christ  fruition, 

Have  in  Him  faith's  end  and  sum. 
Free  from  sorrow  and  from  sighing, 
Free  from  death  and  fear  of  dying, 
God,  whose  name  is  blessedness, 
Them  eternally  shall  bless. 

Then  shall  they  themselves  be  seeing 

As  to  God  Himself  they  are, 
Love  divine  new  bliss  decreeing, 

As  they  wing  from  star  to  star. 
To  green  pastures,  Jesus  leading 
As  their  Shepherd,  His  flock  feeding, 
He  who  did  all  this  provide, 
On  the  Cross  for  them  who  died. 

How  they  throng,  that  countless  number, 
One  with  Christ  in  heart  and  soul! 

World  and  flesh  no  more  encumber, 
High  their  hymns  of  triumph  roll. 


51 

In  the  highest,  glory,  glory! 
To  the  Lamb  of  Calv'ry's  story, 
Him,  for  them  whose  life  he  gave 
As  their  Friend  of  Friends  they  have. 

— Schmolk. 


INTO    THY   FATHER'S   HANDS. 

THY  spirit  thus  commending 
Into  thy  Father's  hands, 
This  mortal  life  thus  ending, 

Heav'n's  portal  open  stands. 
No  dread  of  dark  tomorrows; 

To  leave  earth's  burdens  here, 
To  end  its  cares  and  sorrows, 
And  there  in  light  appear! 

When  heart  and  flesh  shall  fail  me, 

With  earth  when  1  am  through, 
I  would,  O  Lord,  avail  me 

Of  this  same  refuge,  too. 
Thy  joys  Thou  wilt  restore  me, 

My  weakness  Thou  wilt  aid; 
Where  Thou  hast  gone  before  me, 

I  shall  not  be  afraid. 

O  Lord  of  my  salvation, 

Be  with  Thee  where  Thou  art! 
Is  my  sole  aspiration, 

The  longing  of  my  heart. 
With  Thy  kind  arms,  O  shield  me, 

Until  my  latest  breath; 
Until,  by  faith,  I  yield  me 

Into  God's  hand  at  death. 

— Dr.  Hofensak. 


wl 


52 


WHERE    CAN   I   FIND   THE    MASTER? 

ulVo  ist  der  Heir  fufinden." 

'HERE  can  I  find  the  Master? 
That  I  his  face  may  greet  ? 
What  teacher  kind  or  pastor 

Will  guide  me  to  his  feet, 
That  he  may  daily  break  me 

My  share  of  living  bread; 
And  by  his  grace  may  take  me 

The  path  my  feet  should  tread  ? 
Within  his  Word  thou'lt  fmd  him, 

His  quick'ning  spirit's  there; 
The  Father  hath  designed  him 

Heaven's  wicket-gate  to  prayer. 
That  soul,  God  will  abase  him, 

Who  sins  in  carnal  pride; 
His  sins,  He  will  erase  him, 

Who  trusts  the  Crucified. 
Within  the  Bread  he's  hidden, 

Within  the  Wine  that's  poured, 
And  sinners  all  are  bidden 

To  seat  them  at  the  Board; 
Go  there,  go  there  repenting, 

Take  thou  the  humblest  place, 
To  his  sweet  will  consenting, 

And  trusting  in  his  grace. 
Seek  him  in  the  Communion 

Of  those  who  speak  his  name, 
Together  bound  in  union, 

And  warmed  with  holy  flame. 
He  looks  on  all  his  members, 

And  gives  each  soul  release; 
His  promise  still  remembers, 

And  bids  them  go  in  peace. 
Within  the  Heart  he's  dwelling, 

If  welcome  he  receive; 
To  him  its  sorrows  telling, 

Who  can  alone  relieve. 


53 

To  those  who  show  them  willing 

In  his  great  day  of  power, 
Their  souls  with  rapture  filling, 

In  the  espousal  hour. 

Last,  seek  him  in  his  Heaven- 

The  place  he  doth  prepare 
For  all  earth's  souls  forgiven, 

His  blessedness  to  share. 
Ay,  there  the  Lord  will  meet  thee, 

For  thus  the  promise  lies, 
In  heaven's  own  garden  greet  thee, 

The  new,  fair  paradise. 

—  Christian  Augustus  Bahr. 

ASK,  TO   THEE   IT   SHALL   BE   GIVEN. 

ilBittet,  so  wird  euch  gegeben." 

ASK,  to  thee  it  shall  be  given, 
All  that  is  thy  heart's  desire; 
'Tis  the  mandate  sure  of  Heaven; 
What  thy  need— to  that  aspire, 
Never  of  thy  suit  despairing, 
Since  the  Lord  for  thee  is  caring; 
Knock  thou  still  at  mercy's  door, 
And  thy  asking  give  not  o'er. 

When,  with  longing  true  thou  prayest, 

Hoping,  trusting  in  God's  will; 
Thy  petition  humbly  sayest, 

Drawing  from  His  grace  thy  fill; 
When  His  open  ear  addressing, 
Thou  thy  suit  art  constant  pressing, 

Think  not  He  neglects  thy  call, 

Who  in  love  is  over  all. 

What  is  well  He'll  give  thee  surely, 

As  a  father  gives  his  child; 
Bread,  not  stone,  trust  Him  securely — 

Can  His  love  be  so  beguiled  ? 


S4 

If,  with  his  imperfect  speakirg,  ' 
Food  thy  little  child  were  seeking, 

Would'st  thou,  father,  on  his  dish, 

Lay  a  scorpion  for  a  fish  ? 

If  thou,  .being  an  offender, 

Born,  too,  in  iniquity. 
To  thy  child  art  true  and  tender, 

All  his  little  wants  to  see, 
How  much  more  unto  thy  praying, 
Will  the  Lord,  His  grace  displaying, 

Send  the  Holy  Spirit  down, 

Jesus'  perfect  work  to  crown! 

Master,  this  of  Thee  I'm  learning, 

Write  the  lesson  on  my  heart, 
Never  may  I  it  be  spurning, 

Knocking,  seeking,  is  my  part. 
To  be  gracious  Thou  art  waiting, 
Clouds  with  mercy  always  freighting; 

Therefore  will  I  bring  to  Thee, 

Hallelujahs  ceaselessly. 

— Asseburo. 


JERUSALEM,  THOU    MOTHER   TOWN. 

"Jerusalem,  clu  Mutter  stadty 
JERUSALEM,  thou  mother  town, 

In  which  my  name  is  written  down, 
^  As  citizen  there  dwelling. 

Still,  step  by  step,  God  give  me  grace, 
Until  1  win  that  happy  place 

No  fear  my  ardor  quelling; 
Until  I  reach  my  home  divine, 
And  drink  the  first-fruits  of  the  vine. 

God's  countless  hosts  are  gathering  there, 
Those  streams  of  pleasure  all  to  share, 

From  earth's  poor  cisterns  flying; 
Beyond  my  flesh  and  sense  to  stand, 
To  walk  my  soul's  true  fatherland: 


55 

Ah,  this  is  all  of  dying! 
O  that  my  longing  gaze  might  be, 
Dear  mother  town,  alone  on  thee. 

There  to  the  palace  of  the  King, 
The  Prince's  nuptial  feast  they  bring, 

For  my  soul's  entertaining: 
There  he  provides  eternal  rest 
For  those  in  wedding-raiment  drest, 

With  him  forever  reigning. 
The  more  earth's  fountain  overflows, 
There  more  my  heart  in  longing  goes. 

And  so  I  climb  and  pant  and  faint, 
Borne  on  by  very  love's  constraint, 

God's  life  within  me  feeling: 
Swept  upward  to  my  heavenly  home 
By  forces  from  that  world  to  come, 

Faith  more  and  more  revealing; 
My  soul  dissolving  into  love, 
Foretasting  here  the  joys  above. 

O  royal  table  waiting  there, 
Which  my  dear  Lord  hastes  to  prepare, 
.  Spread  with  undying  pleasures, 
So  hold  and  fascinate  me  still, 
Lest  I  be  fain  my  soul  to  fill 

From  earth's  poor  broken  treasures; 
Their  battle  fought,  his  hosts  shall  be 
His  guests  through  all  eternity. 

Then,  hallelujah,  glory  be, 
Forevermore,  O  Lord,  to  thee, 

From  all  thy  saints  adoring: 
Enkindled  by  seraphic  fires, 
And  joining  the  angelic  choirs, 

Their  praises  ceaseless  pouring, 
May  we,  our  tongues  attuned  below, 
Adore  while  circling  ages  flow. 

— G.  Arnold. 


S6 


MY   JESUS,  AS   THOU   WILT. 

u  Meinjesu,  wie  da  imlst." 

MY  Jesus,  as  thou  wilt, 
Thy  will  may  I  be  willing; 
In  anguish,  grief  and  woe, 

My  troubled  spirit  stilling; 

Grant  me,  that  everywhere, 

My  will  and  thine  be  one; 

In  life  and  death,  thy  care — 

Thy  will,  O  Lord,  be  done! 

My  Jesus,  as  thou  wilt, 

Through  thorns  my  pathway  leading, 
Let  me  some  roses  find, 

Although  my  feet  be  bleeding; 
If  woes  are  me  decreed, 

Where  thy  dear  feet  have  gone, 
There  let  my  own  feet  bleed — 

My  Lord,  thy  will  be  done. 

My  Jesus,  as  thou  wilt, 

My  eyes  in  tears  though  swimming, 
Still  let  not  sorrow's  cloud 

Faith's  guiding  star  be  dimming; 
Thou  hast  thyself  oft  wept, 

Nor  did'st  griefs  fortune  shun  ; 
Hast  sorrow's  vigils  kept — 

My  Lord,  thy  will  be  done! 

My  Jesus,  as  thou  wilt! 

Though  death  dear  ones  be  taking, 
Too  much  I  would  not  grieve, 

Nor  let  my  heart  be  bieaking; 
They  have,  through  thy  rich  grace, 

Eternal  glory  won; 
May  I,  too,  see  thy  face — 

My  Lord,  thy  will  be  done! 


My  Jesus,  as  thou  wilt! 

Should  sickness  overtake  me, 
Let  not  the  bitter  cross, 

0  Lord,  impatient  make  me; 
Thou  know'st  love's  healing  heart, 

Thou  "It  nothing  leave  undone, 
Thy  touch  shall  cure  each  smart — 
My  Lord,  thy  will  be  done! 

My  Jesus,  as  thou  wilt! 

1  shall,  at  length,  be  dying; 
1  know  the  refuge  where 

My  soul  will  then  be  flying; 
If  but  that  soul  be  hid 

By  faith  in  God's  dear  Son, 
Of  death  I  '11  soon  be  rid — 

My  Lord,  thy  will  be  done! 

My  Jesus,  as  thou  wilt! 

With  that  I  will  content  me; 
Let  come  or  grief  or  woe, 

Or  life  or  death  be  sent  me; 
Be  not  thy  will  deferred, 

I  '11  neither  tlee  nor  shun; 
My  last,  as  my  first  word— 

My  Lord,  thy  will  be  done! 


-Sclimolk. 


THE   YEAR   AGAIN    IS    ENDING. 

11  Das  J ahv  1st  nun  :u  Einie." 

THE  vear  again  is  ending, 
But  not,  O  Lord,  Thy  love! 
For,  blessings  still  descending, 

Disclose  Thy  reign  above. 
Though  Fortune's  fane  be  shaking, 

And  earth  from  good  refrains, 
Though  friends  be  us  forsaking, 
Thv  love,  O  Lord,  remains. 


58 

Though  youth  lose  its  attractions, 

And  manhood's  strength  give  way, 
Despite  of  all  abstractions, 

My  heart  on  Thee  I  stay  ; 
Although  life's  day  declining, 

The  evening  comes  apace, 
I  can  be  all  resigning, 

If  but  I  see  Thy  face. 

Although  life's  thread  be  breaking, 

For  death,  though  1  prepare, 
Thou  wilt  my  soul  be  taking, 

It  still  will  be  Thy  care. 
The  shadows  past  have  drifted, 

Which  fall  about  the  grave, 
For  there  Thy  Cross  is  lifted, 

Thou  diedst  there  to  save. 

The  Old  Year's  sins  forgiven, 

Renewed  to  Thee  my  vow, 
Still  on  the  path  to  Heaven, 

Go  Thou  before  me  now. 
Heal  Thou  my  sin  and  sorrow, 

Help  me  to  faith  sincere; 
And,  if  I  greet  the  morrow, 

Make  it  a  glad  New  Year. 


-C.  A.  Bahr. 


A   CHILD'S   PRAYER. 

THE  earth  has  closed  its  weary  eye, 
Hushed  all  things  round  and  still; 
And  to  my  little  couch  1  hie, 
Of  sleep  to  get  my  fill. 

Go  with  me,  wilt  Thou,  Lord,  and  set 

An  angel  at  the  door; 
Nor  let  him  once  the  charge  forget, 

The  morning  light  befoie. 


My  little  chamber's  snug  and  warm. 

My  bed  is  soft  and  sweet; 
Two  angels  can  keep  me  from  harm, 

One  at  my  head  and  feet. 

So,  in  the  darkness  of  the  night. 

And  in  its  silence,  too, 
1  may  be  kept  from  all  afright, 

And  sleep  the  whole  night  through. 

I  thank  Thee  for  this  happy  day, 

This  happy  day  of  bliss: 
I  know  not  for  what  else  to  pray 

But  for  a  goodnight  kiss. 

Thou  knowest  what  for  me  is  best — 

Thou  truest  of  all  friends — 
A  little  wholesome  childhood  rest! 

My  prayer!   and  so  it  ends. 

— Suggested  by  the  German. 

JERUSALEM,  TOWN   OF   THE   KING. 

11  Jerusalem ,  du  Konigstadt." 

JERUSALEM,  town  of  the  King, 
Thy  glories  shall  eternal  spring 
When  others  are  declining  ; 
When  suns  and  moons  wane  to  decay, 
And  heaven  and  earth  shall  pass  away, 

Thy  light  shall  still  be  shining  ; 
With  morning  glow,  eternal  town, 
Jeweled  thy  walls,  as  though  God's  crown. 

Twelve  precious  stones,  in  light  arrayed, 
Apostle-named,  God's  hand  has  laid. 

To  be  thy  sure  foundation  ; 
Twelve  gates  of  pearl,  all-glorious  rise, 
To  greet  the  rapt  beholder's  eyes, 

Named  for  God's  chosen  nation  ; 
And  gaze  he  far,  and  gaze  he  wide, 
What  wonders  teem  on  every  side  ! 


6o 

There  eye  can  see  in  cloudless  light 

Shine  through  those  walls,  as  crystal  bright, 

God's  mildly  tempered  glances: 
While,  lo,  above  the  crystal  sea, 
The  Lamb,  once  slain,  ah  !  that  must  be, 

The  sight  one's  soul  entrances; 
The  eyes  of  sin-sick  mortals  beam 
With  life  drank  from  yon  crystal  stream. 

Who  dwells  within  this  royal  place, 
Shall  find  laid  up,  his  state  to  grace, 

Of  gold,  unfading  treasure; 
Within  life's  stream  shall  freely  lave, 
Life-giving  fruit  shall  always  have, 

And  without  stint  or  measure. 
For  paradise,  this  tropic  land, 
Is  by  celestial  breezes  fanned. 

It  is  a  garden,  ever  green, 
Where  silver  waters  wind  serene, 

Rich-laden  trees  abounding; 
But  yet  it  is  a  city  still, 
Peopled  with  those  who  do  God's  will, 

High  walls  of  gold  surrounding; 
And  yet  it  is  a  home  again, 
Within,  the  Father's  gentle  reign. 

It  is  the  capital  of  peace, 

Whose  unshut  gates  give  man  release 

From  all  his  earthly  burdens; 
Whose  day  wilts  not,  that  has  no  night, 
Whose  citizens  walk  in  God's  light, 

And  gain  eternal  guerdons; 
Whose  blood-washed  raiment  round  them  flows 
As  white  as  the  undrifted  snows. 

O  happy  people  of  that  place! 
O  noble  city,  noble  race! 
Were  I  among  you  seated, 


6i 

My  weary  pilgrim  pathway  done, 
My  perils  past;  my  victory  won, 

My  lot  here  full  completed ! 
There  fixed  my  eye,  1  hope  and  wait, 
Till  I  shall  pass  thy  golden  gate. 

—C.  G.  Barth. 


AH,   MY   HEART,   TO    IT   GIVE   UP. 

tfAch,  mein  Her;e,  gib  dich  drein." 

AH,  my  heart,  to  it  give  up, 
Take  what  God  may  foreordain  thee; 
He,  who  mingles  sorrow's  cup, 

Can,  in  sorrow,  still  sustain  thee. 
He  will  right  thee,  tears  efface, 
And  will  give  thee  grace  for  grace. 

Tread'stthou  here  a  path  of  thorns  ? 

Is  thy  drink  with  gall  commingled  ? 
Never  God  thy  sorrow  scorns, 

He  for  thee  this  path  has  singled. 
Only  trust!  When  understood, 
It  is  right,  and  it  is  good. 

True  thy  God  must  still  abide! 

Under  crosses  dost  thou  sorrow  ? 
Neath  His  shadow  thou  can'st  hide, 

Rest  and  trust  from  Him  can'st  borrow. 
Nothing  can  that  man  o'erthrow, 
Whom  God  cares  for  here  below. 

To  God's  plans  thyself  adjust, 
Hoping  still,  and  still  enduring, 

He,  the  Lord,  who  is  thy  trust, 
Through  these  woes,  thy  peace  securing. 

Well  He  knows  what  is  thy  lot, 

Patient  suffer,  murmur  not. 


62 


Crowns  come  not  till  after  war! 

Still  contending,  still  believing, 
Jesus  never  stands  afar; 

Thee  no  power  of  Him  bereaving. 
Praying,  suffring,  patient,  pure, 
Thou  shalt  find  the  end  secure. 

— Schmolk. 


HEAKER   THE    CHILD,    THE    STROKE    SEVEREK. 

lfJe  lieber  Kind}  je  scharfer  Ruthe." 

^EARER  the  child,  the  stroke  severer! 
It  is  God's  method  with  His  own; 
To  make  our  sight  of  Heaven  clearer, 

Love  plaits  for  us  of  thorns  a  crown. 
God  chastened  thus  His  only  Son; 
One  not  His  child  He  lets  alone. 


DE 


Correction  is  His  sure  love-token, 
The  gold  thus  from  the  dross  to  save; 

By  shame,  for  glory  are  we  broken, 

And  up  to  Heav'n  mount  from  the  grave. 

The  bitter  tears  that  here  annoy, 

Make  up  for  us  God's  sea  of  joy. 

The  dearest  child  must  be  attended 
By  sorrow's  shadows  all  life  long; 

The  greatest  grace  on  him's  expended 
On  whom  the  greatest  sorrows  throng. 

And  we  to  Heav'n  who  here  aspire, 

Must  go  through  water  and  through  fire. 

With  His  left  hand  does  God  correct  us, 
But,  still  embraces  with  His  right, 

To  drink  of  vinegar  direct  us, 

Which  nectar  seems  when  tasted  right. 

Although  the  cross  looks  burden  great, 

He  makes  it  of  a  feather's  weight. 


63 

The  world  entire,  I  would  not  take  it, 
No  earthly  cares  or  grief  to  see  ; 

The  cross  must  crush  my  will  or  break  it; 
A  child  of  God  would  better  be. 

God  means  it  ever  for  my  good  — 

Dearer  the  child,  the  more  the  rod. 


—Schmolk. 


GOD    CARES    FOR    ME. 

"Gott  sorgl  fur  Mich." 

GOD  cares  for  me!     Should  I  be  caring! 
He  is  my  Father,  I'm  His  child: 
He  cares  to-day,  to-morrow  sharing; 

My  pathway  on  to  Heav'n  beguiled. 
Alone  or  wretched  can  I  be  r 
He  knows  His  own:  God  cares  for  me. 

God  cares  for  me!     In  Him  confiding, 

I  do  not  fear  my  coming  lot; 
For,  were  it  mine,  each  day's  deciding, 

He  still  should  shape  it  to  His  thought. 
I'm  ready  now,  eternally! 
He  well  provides:  God  cares  for  me. 

Body  and  soul  for  me  He's  caring. 
His  Word  to  soul  the  living  bread, 

Whate'er  my  earthly  toil  or  faring, 
Still  from  His  hand  I'm  daily  fed. 

Well  may  I  trust  confidinuly, 

For  all  is  well :  God  cares  for  me. 

When  through  the  land  pale  Famine  's  stalking, 
And  men  are  dreading  coming  woe, 

With  His  disciples  He  is  walking, 
As  through  the  cornfields  long  ago. 

Though  'tis  not  much,  provider  He, 

He  gives  enough:  God  cares  for  me. 


64 

God  cares  for  me,  and  for  my  dearest; 

The  flesh  and  blood  that  here  are  mine; 
Unchanging  Sun,  with  light  Thou  cheerest, 

When  hope,  extinguished,  gives  no  sign. 
Thy  footsteps  on  before  they  see, 
My  dearest  ones:  God  cares  for  me. 

God  cares  for  me  in  my  distresses; 

The  cross  that  He  upon  me  lays, 
As  His  own  child  my  soul  addresses, 

And  future  glory  round  it  plays. 
The  strokes  that  fall  are  fatherly, 
And  for  my  good:  God  cares  for  me. 

God  cares  for  me  when  life  is  waning; 

Who  holds  and  leads  me,  loves  me  well; 
He  hears  my  sighing  and  complaining, 

And  all  my  weaknesses  can  tell; 
Protector  tender,  always  He, 
He's  still  the  same:  God  cares  for  me. 

God  cares  for  me  when  I  am  dying; 

And  death  is  but  sweet  sleep  to  me; 
Beyond  earth's  curse  and  woe  and  crying, 

Asleep  in  Jesus  I  shall  be — 
To  rest  and  reign  eternally 
1  go  to  Him:  God  cares  for  me. 

God  cares  for  me  where  I  am  sleeping    ■ 

In  some  cool  spot,  my  dust  to  dust; 
His  angels  o'er  me  ward  are  keeping, 

I  know,  I  know  in  whom  1  trust. 
And  soul  and  body  yet  shall  be 
Made  one  in  Christ:  God  cares  for  me. 

— Schmolk 


II.  SECULAR. 


GERMAN-ENGLISH    LYRICS. 

SECULAR. 

THE   WEEPING   MOTHER. 

"Start  des  Kindlem." 

A  BABE  in  death  lay  sleeping, 
Alas  the  mother 
Grief  could  not  smother; 
Was  all  the  night,  sad  vigils  keeping, 
Sat  all  the  day  a-weeping,  weeping. 

There  came  a  little  apparition, 

Waxen  and  pale; 
And  made  her  this  petition: 
11  Mother,  pray  do  not  weep, 
For,  see,  with  tears  you  keep 

My  shroud  so  wet, 
A  moment's  rest  I  cannot  get.  " 


The  little  speech  was  o'er, 
The  mother  wept  no  more. 


CLOUDS   OF   EVENING. 


— Bauernfleld. 


CLOUDS  see  I,  float  in  the  West, 
Clouds  in  shape  so  manifold, 
Clouds  all  bathed  in  purest  gold, 
Which  were  late  with  shadows  blending. 
Ah!  says  my  prophetic  breast: 

So  shall  all  sin's  shadows  flee; 
Flooded  so  my  soul  shall  be, 
When  my  life's  sun  is  descending. 

—Uhland. 


68 

HEAVEN'S  TREFOIL. 


A  LITTLE  dove  to  Heaven  flew, 
And  brought  a  trefoil  the  gates  through. 

Upon  it  written  by  God's  hand, 

Three  words,  which  all  can  understand. 

In  all  the  earth  this  trefoil  grows, 
And  happy  who  its  meaning  knows. 

Love,  faith  and  hope  are  written  there, 
To  keep  us  mortals  from  despair. 

— F aller  sleb  en. 


CHRISTINE   WULPENS. 

I 


WALKED  in  the  forest  in  a  listless  mood, 
I  was  seeking  naught  there,  but  sweet  solitude. 


I  spied,  half  hidden,  a  flower  arise, 

It  was  bright  as  a  star,  as  blue  as  blue  eyes. 

I  stooped  down  to  pluck  it.     It  answered  to  me : 
" 1  shall  wither  to  dust,  if  broken  I  be!" 

I  dug  up  its  rootlets,  and  tenderly  sought 

A  garden  to  shield  it;  some  sweet,  quiet  spot. 

Again,  it  is  planted  in  beauty  and  grace, 
It  is  blushing  again,  up  into  my  face. 

— Goethe. 

*The  name  of  Goethe's  wife. 


69 

TEARS  AND   FLOWERS. 

THE  tears  wfiich  here  are  flowing 
In  this  dark  world  below, 
At  night,  an  angel  bears  them 
Above  earth's  hills  of  snow. 

It  is  so  far  to  Heaven, 

And  tears  so  heavy  be, 
That  many  a  tear  is  dropping 

Back  to  the  deep,  deep  sea. 

But  when  to  earth  descending, 

A  gathered  tear-drop  goes, 
It  blooms  a  thing  of  beauty, 

A  snow-white  lily  blows. 

Perhaps  a  lily  blossoms, 

On  earth  there  blooms  a  flower, 
As  I  from  home  an  exile, 

Have  wept  this  twilight  hour. 

— Anon. 


AFTER    SNOW. 

AFTER  snow,  after  snow, 
Do  the  sweet-breathed  violets  blow; 
Then  grim  winter  is  departing, 
And  the  em'rald  clover  starting: 

While  the  lark  mounts  high,  you  know, 
After  snow. 


As  God  will,  as  God  will! 

Be  it  mine  but  to  hold  still; 
Should  the  clouds  above  me  thicken, 
Rain  will  but  the  grasses  quicken, 

And  God's  treasure-houses  fill: 
As  God  will. 


70 

Hush  my  heart!  hush  my  heart! 

Ease  must  interchange  with  smart; 
Though  thick  trouble?  now  enfold  thee, 
Let  sweet  trust  in  God  uphold  thee; 

Look  above;  'tis  faith's  high  art: 
Hush,  my  heart. 


-Anon. 


HAIL   TO   THEE,   SCHILLER. 

HAIL  to  thee,  Schiller,  from  glory  descending! 
Our  hearts  full  of  thanks,  we  greet  thee  to-day; 
Here,  round  thine  image,  our  glad  voices  blending, 

We  bring  thee  our  off'ring,  our  festival  lay. 
Of  Germany's  sons,  the  noblest  we  own  thee, 
And  wreathing  our  song  and  green  laurel-branch  crown  thee. 

Still  to  this  day,  as  when  thou  wert  living, 

Thou  art  Fatherland's  boast  in  story  and  song: 
On  glory's  Parnassus,  in  raiment  light-giving, 

-The  brightest  to  her,  of  all  the  bright  throng. 
The  forms  of  true  beauty  shall  leave  her,  O  never, 
Till  Time  the  sweet  chords  thou  hast  struck  shall  dissever. 

The  works  of  thy  genius  were  wrought  for  far  ages, 
And  will  live  until  Time  shall  cease  its  long  flight  ; 

To  the  last  generation,  the  study  of  sages, 

To  the  last  generation,  fruit  plucked  with  delight. 

The  works  of  thy  genius  shall  linger  immortal, 

Since  spirit  ne'er  crosses  the  sepulchre's  portal. 

Things  high  and  things  deep,  far,  far  have  they  sounded, 
Things  pure  and  things  true  and  noble  thou'st  taught; 

Beyond  Fatherland,  their  limit  unbounded, 

Like  light  have  they  gone  on  the  wings  of  thy  thought. 

Old  ocean  himself  in  vain  tries  to  hold  thee, 

Since  all  the  wide  world  rises  up  to  enfold  thee. 


7' 

When  Fatherland  Freedom's  fair  temple  shall  build  her, 
Our  dear  German  Fatherland,  so  free  and  so  brave, 

Where  thousands  unborn  their  homage  shall  yield  her, 
Her  gate  inscribed  Schiller  that  temple  shall  have. 

And  there,  laurel-decked,  thine  image  enshrining, 

The  sun  of  thy  genius  for  aye  shall  be  shining. 

In  one,  thy  dear  name,  Frederick  Schiller,  shall  bind  us, 
Who  in  North  and  in  South  were  sundered  apart; 

To-day  we  are  Germans,  past  contentions  behind  us; 
German  brothers  to  each,  since  brother  thou  art; 

To-day,  we  are  strong  in  one  bond  that  unites  us; 

We  are  strong  and  content  in  one  Land  that  delights  us. 

— From  the  German. 


LENOKA. 

LENORA  rose,  one  morning  red, 
From  bitter,  bitter  dreaming, 
"Art  thou  untrue,  Wilhelm,  or  dead? 

Thine  absence  so  ill-seeming." 
In  Frederic's  army  he  had  fought, 
At  Prague  to  bloody  battle  brought : 
And  she,  neglected,  waiting, 
His  life  and  death  debating. 

Fred'ric  the  king  and  Austria's  queen 
Of  fighting  had  grown  weary. 

They  thought  to  make  all  things  serene, 
And  end  war's  horrors  dreary. 

The  soldiers  came  home  singing  songs, 

With  drums  and  bugles,  noisy  throngs; 
In  green  their  hats  and  blouses, 
To  greet  their  maids  and  spouses. 

And  out  they  poured  from  everywhere, 
O'er  bridges  and  through  passes: 

The  old  and  young,  the  foul  and  fair, 
Wives,  mothers,  and  sweet  lasses. 


72 

Thank  God!  the  wives  and  children  cried: 
And  welcome!  many  a  chosen  bride; 

Alas  for  poor  Lenora, 

No  lover  beamed  before  her. 

In  vain  along  the  ranks  so  brave, 

She  went,  his  fate  inquiring; 
For  none  the  wished-for  answer  gave; 

The  news  she  was  desiring. 
All  past  had  gone  the  troops  so  fair, 
When  down  she  tore  her  raven  hair; 

And  on  the  ground  in  sadness, 

Moaned,  raving  in  half  madness. 

"  Have  mercy,  God,  on  her  and  me!" 

Her  mother  cried,  beholding, 
"  My  darling  child,  what  aileth  thee  !" 

Her  to  her  bosom  folding. 
"  O  mother,  mother,  gone  is  gone, 
With  earthly  things  I'm  done,  I'm  done, 

For  God  has  no  compassion, 

To  rob  me  in  such  fashion." 

11  Help,  God,  O  help,  be  gracious  still! 

Say,  child,  a  pater-noster: 
He  has  but  done  His  holy  will, 

Do  not  such  madness  foster.1 ' 
11  O  mother,  mother,  vain  prayer's  spell, 
Say  not  that  God  's  to  me  done  well, 

No  help  has  come  from  praying, 

And  pater-noster  saying.'1 

11  Help,  God,  O  help!1'  in  prayer  she  bent; 

"  Thy  children  need  thee  often; 
The  holy,  holy  sacrament 

Will  surely  thy  heart  soften." 
11  O  mother,  mother,  grace  is  spent; 
No  help  is  in  the  sacrament; 

No  rites  unto  the  living, 

Can  back  their  dead  be  giving." 


13 

"  Child,  grieve  no  more  for  this  false  man 
Who  's  wed  some  maid  Hungarian; 

Or  perjured  lives  beneath  God's  ban, 
In  distant  lands  Bavarian; 

For  vain  the  oath  to  you  he  swore, 

And  false  his  tryst  forevermore; 
And  woe  will  sure  befall  him, 
When  death  to  God  shall  call  him." 

(i  O  mother,  mother,  gone  is  gone. 

Forsaken  is  forsaken; 
And  death  alone  I  'm  doting  on ; 

In  birth  why  did  I  waken  ? 
Go  out,  forever  out,  life's  light, 
Extinct,  extinct,  in  woe  and  blight; 

In  God  is  no  salvation, 

But  only  deep  damnation." 

"  Help,  God,  help  and  Judge  her  not, 

The  child  is  sick  and  raving; 
What  she  has  said  was  not  her  thought, 

Forgive  her  ill-behaving. 
Dear  child,  thine  earthly  loss  forget, 
On  God  and  Heaven  thy  heart  be  set; 

So  shall  the  wounds  have  healing, 

Made  by  this  wretch  unfeeling.'' 

"  O  mother,  Heaven  's  to  me  no  bliss, 

And  what  to  me  hell's  horror? 
With  him,  with  him  all  woe  I  miss, 

Without  him,  all  woe  borrow. 
Go  out,  my  life,  forever  out, 
Extinct,  extinct  in  night  and  drought; 

No  happiness  from  him  asunder, 

In  this  world  or  in  yonder.'* 

So  widely  through  her  brain  and  sense 
Blasphemous  thoughts  were  raging; 

So  fought  she  with  God's  providence, 
No  power  her  grief  assuaging! 


74 

She  wrung  her  hands,  her  breast  made  bare, 
Until  the  sun  was  setting  there, 

And  all  the  stars  came  driven 

Into  the  vault  of  Heaven. 

But  hark!  without,  'tis  clack,  clack,  clack, 
As  though  horse  hoofs  were  sounding, 

And  then  they  clatter  up  the  track, 
Against  the  walls  resounding. 

And  hark!  ay,  hark!  a  single  ring, 

So  soft  and  slow,  a  ding-a-ling; 
And  through  the  latticed  shutter, 
These  words  a  voice  doth  utter: 

"  Hulloa,  Hulloa,  rouse  up,  my  child, 

Art  waking  or  art  sleeping? 
Art  from  thy  love  to  me  beguiled  ? 

Art  laughing  or  art  weeping  ?  " 
"  O  Wilhelm,  thou  so  late  at  night! 
I've  wept  and  watched  from  eve  till  light, 

And  grieved  at  thy  long  hiding; 

Whence  com'st  thou  thus  far  riding? 

11  I  saddled  horse  at  black  midnight, 

I've  rode  from  far  Bohemia; 
I  started  late,  but  here  alight 

From  sorrow  to  redeem  ye." 
"  O  Wilhelm,  first  some  shelter  find, 
The  hawthorn  shivers  in  the  wind; 

Within  could  1  but  charm  thee, 

In  long  embrace  I'd  warm  thee." 

"The  hawthorn  shivers,  yes,  I  heed! 

Let  not  my  ride  miscarry; 
He  champs  his  bit  and  stamps,  my  steed, 

I  durst  not  longer  tarry. 
Give  me  thy  hand  and  make  one  spring, 
Thee  on  my  courser  I  will  swing; 

A  hundred  leagues  thee  bearing, 

Thou  shalt  my  couch  be  sharing. 


75 

c<  To  share  thy  bridal  couch  this  night 
A  hundred  leagues  thou'lt  bear  me — 

Another  stroke  will  bring  midnight — 
To  such  wild  flight  dost  dare  me?  " 

11  But  look,  dear,  look?  the  bright,  bright  moon; 

I  and  the  dead  make  journeys  soon; 

This  very  night  111  take  thee 

Where  nuptial  joys  shall  wake  thee.'* 

"  Where  is  the  little  chamber,  then, 
For  bride  that  is  soft  lying  ?  " 

II  Far,  far  from  here,  but  cool  and  clean 
For  thy  sweet  occupying." 

"  Hast  room  for  me;  for  thee  and  me  ?  *' 
11  Come,  dress  thyself,  mount  instantly: 

The  wedding  guests  await  us, 

Nor  let  delay  belate  us." 

She  girds  her  waist  and  nimbly  springs 

Upon  the  steed  behind  him; 
Her  lily  arms  around  him  flings, 

Close  to  her  heart  to  bind  him. 
And  whirring,  skurring,  hop,  hop,  hop, 
They  into  furious  gallop  drop, 

The  horse  and  rider  snorting, 

And  sparks  and  stones  disporting. 

How  flew  to  right  and  flew  to  left, 

The  hedge,  the  trees,  the  mountain; 
How  flew  apart,  as  though  wedge-cleft, 

Town,  village,  hamlet,  fountain. 
14  Love,  art  afraid?  bright  shines  the  moon; 
Hurrah!  the  dead  make  journeys  soon: 

Art  timid,  love,  art  weeping? 

The  dead  far  off  are  sleeping." 

On  right  and  left  as  forth  they  speed, 

They  see  the  scene  dividing; 
The  hill,  the  vale,  the  heath,  the  mead; 

Bridge  thunders  'neath  their  riding. 


76 

"Art  thou  afraid  ?  how  bright  the  moon; 
Hurrah!  the  dead  make  journeys  soon. 

Dost  fear  the  dead  ?  art  weeping  ? 

The  dead  afar  are  sleeping." 

What  clangor  's  this  that  greets  the  ear  ? 

The  raven's  croaking  solemn; 
And  tolling  bells  and  wailings  drear, 

And  priests  in  chanting  column. 
The  dead  they  bear  in  fun'ral  train; 
The  pall,  the  coffin,  and  the  wain; 

Along  griefs  pathway  dreary, 

They  chant  the  miserere. 

"At  midnight  lay  ye  in  the  tomb 
The  corpse  that  here  ye  carry; 

Make  way,  and  give  my  fair  bride  room, 
And  come  and  see  us  marry. 

Come  sexton  here,  come  with  the  choir, 

A  wedding-hymn  is  my  desire: 
Thou  priest,  a  blessing  say  us, 
Ere  on  our  couch  we  lay  us." 

The  dirge  is  hushed,  and  left  the  bier, 
The  bridegroom's  call  obeying; 

As  bridal  guests  they  all  appear, 
No  more  the  pair  delaying; 

But  onward,  faster,  hop,  hop,  hop, 

They  into  furious  gallop  drop, 
The  steed  and  rider  snorting, 
And  sparks  and  stones  disporting. 

Lo  there,  lo  there,  on  gallows  trees, 
The  moon  upon  them  glancing, 

The  dead  are  whirling  in  the  breeze, 
The  dead,  the  dead  are  dancing. 

u  Ho,  ho!  ye  rabble,  here,  come  here; 

With  dance  our  bridal  night  to  cheer; 
Around  in  figures  wheeling, 
While  to  the  church  we're  stealing." 


77 

The  rabble  heed  him;  hush,  hush,  hush! 

And  join  the  mad,  mad  bustle; 
As  tempest  through  the  hazel  bush, 

They  speed  with  rush  and  rustle. 
And  onward,  onward,  hop,  hop,  hop, 
The  into  furious  gallop  drop; 

The  steed  and  rider  Shorting, 

And  sparks  and  stones  disporting. 

Beneath,  beneath  the  round,  round  moon, 

All  things  fly  fast  and  faster; 
As  though  from  out  the  midnight's  noon 

The  stars  fall  in  disaster. 
"Art  timid,  love?  bright  shines  the  moon, 
We  and  the  dead  make  journeys  soon. 

Art  timid,  love  ?  art  weeping  ? 

Far  off  the  dead  are  sleeping." 

11  My  courser  black,  the  cock  I  hear; 

Night's  last  sand  sure  is  running; 
My  courser  black,  morn's  scent  is  near, 

The  day  we  must  be  shunning. 
Our  race  at  length's  complete; 
Here  lies  our  nuptial  bed  so  sweet; 

The  dead  how  fast  their  riding; 

Our  place  this  of  abiding." 

Up  to  an  iron  gate  he  rode, 

His  crow-black  courser  reining, 
As  though  it  were  his  own  abode; 

More  than  slight  touch  disdaining, 
The  doors  flew  back  with  whirring  sound, 
And  grave  on  grave  lay  ranged  around; 

The  moon  down  brightly  shining, 

And  many  a  shaft  outlining. 

Hulloa,  see  there!  quick  as  a  flash, 

A  horrid,  horrid,  wonder! 
The  rider's  doublet  downward  dash, 

And  piecemeal  fall  asunder, 


78 

And  look!  his  head!  see  there,  see  there, 
A  naked  skull  without  a  hair, 

A  skeleton  unmasked  unfolding, 

The  scythe  and  hour-glass  holding. 

The  black  steed  pranced,  the  black  steed  neighed, 

Fire  from  his  nostrils  breathing; 
Began  to  sink,  began  to  fade, 

Him  flame  and  smoke  enwreathing; 
A  peal  of  thunder  in  the  sky, 
And  from  the  depths  arose  a  cry. 

Lenora's  heart  fast  beating, 

And  thus  her  sad  fate  meeting. 

The  dead  danced  there  beneath  the  moon, 

Their  spectral  circles  rounding; 
And  wheeled  and  turned  to  fit  the  tune, 

This  doleful  chant  resounding; 
"  Be  patient,  though  thy  heart  should  break: 
Blaspheme  not  God,  His  wrath  to  wake; 

Thy  body,  earth  has  won  it; 

Thy  soul,  God's  mercy  on  it." 

— Burger. 


THE   NIOBE  OF    NATIONS. 

THE  boat  tugs  at  the  rusty  chain, 
Flutters  the  sail,  and  creaks  the  rudder; 
The  fisher  boy  is  through  his  pain, 

His  father  dead  with  throe  and  shudder; 
For  Irish  fish  is  some  lord's  fish, 

The  richest  hauls,  he's  sure  to  snatch  them, 
Though  empty  stands  the  peasant's  dish, 
And  starving  die  the  men  who  catch  them. 

What  gath'ring  sounds  are  these  I  hear? 

What  lowing  loud,  what  Babel  bleating  ? 
Ah!  men  in  rags,  to  harbor  near 

Are  driving  herds  for  foreign  eating. 


79 

For  Irish  meat  is  some  lord's  meat, 
Though  Irish  folk  be  sick  and  starving; 

Who  thinks  him  there  on  Downing  Street, 
Of  hungry  mouths,  if  he's  good  carving? 

The  Irish  landlords  have  enough, 

Nor  ever  is  their  larder  scanty; 
For  horn  of  cow  or  bullock  rough, 

Is  still  to  them  a  horn  of  plenty. 
In  London  or  in  Paris,  they, 

Their  gold  heaped  up  on  gaming-tables, 
Still  madly  drink  and  madly  play, 

While  peasants  die,  like  flies  'round  stables. 

Holloa,  holloa!     Green  Erin's  chase! 

Go  in,  her  son!  poor  idle  dreamer! 
For  piles  of  venison  must  grace 

The  hold  and  prow  of  the  next  steamer. 
For  Irish  game  is  some  lord's  game, 

On  this  the  game-laws  guard  encroaching; 
The  starving  peasant  dies  the  same; 

God  help!  no  strength  has  he  for  poaching. 

His  lordship  cares  for  stag  and  ox — 

Let  peasants  starve,  if  they  but  fatten! 
Let  no  man  drain  morass  or  bogs, 

For  there  the  wild-duck  loves  to  batten, 
Let  wild-goose  haunt  the  shady  fen, 

And  fly,  in  flocks,  securely  over; 
Ay,  leave  the  grass  for  water-hen, 

Nor  scare  from  nest  the  golden  plover. 

God  cursed  the  land — for^  English  lords! 

Made  swamp  and  waste,  four  million  acres; 
Morass  and  bog,  which  no  man  fords — 

The  fault,  of  course,  is  all  man's  Maker's; 
For  Irish  land  is  some  lord's  land; 

So  stands  the  mother,  wildly  wailing, 
And  begs  a  pittance  from  your  hand, 

To  shroud  the  babe,  cured  of  its  ailing. 


8o 

Thus  moves  the  curse,  by  day,  by  night, 

As  when  the  distant  thunder  rumbles; 
The  west- wind  brings  to  one  the  blight; 

Connaught  to  Leinster  speaks  in  grumbles. 
Tis  weak,  like  some  expiring  groan, 

Which  death-struck  soul  for  mercy  utters; 
A  cry  of  want,  a  hunger-moan, 

A  cry  of  death,  pale  Erin  utters. 

O  Erin !  on  her  knees  she  grieves, 

Emaciate,  pale,  her  locks  wild-flying; 
And  sprinkles  withered  shamrock  leaves 

Upon  the  bier  of  her  sons  dying. 
She  kneels  by  stream,  she  kneels  by  shore, 

On  mountain-peak  herself  she  stations; 
Than  Byron's  Rome,  alas,  far  more 

Is  she  the  Niobe  of  nations. 

— Freiligrath. 


STITCHING    TAPESTRY. 

ONE,  two,  three,  four,  five,  six,  seven, 
Stitches  green;  no  more  delay. 
Fast  my  needle  must  be  driven, 

Fast  comes  round  his  next  birthday. 
In  the  canvas  I  must  stitch  them, 

Now  the  flow'r  and  then  the  leaf: 
Ah!  my  tears,  they  oft  bewitch  them: 
Stitching  is  my  one  relief. 

One,  two,  three,  four,  five,  six,  seven, 

Green  as  rose-leaf  on  the  tree. 
Late  1  stood  here,  loving,  living — 

Ah!  for  man's  inconstancy! 
Hope,  the  language  of  the  color, 

Sweeter  life  grew,  day  by  day, 
Now  I  better  like  a  duller — 

Yes,  thou  false  thread,  go  away. 


)I 


One,  two,  three,  four,  five,  six,  seven, 

Blue,  thou  thread,  as  sky  is  blue;' 
Up  the  false  one  must  be  given, 

Yet,  he  looked  so  grand  and  true! 
Thou  wert  once  love's  fairest  token. 

When  his  blue  eyes  fell  on  me, 
But  his  plighted  troth  he's  broken  — 

Off,  thou  blue,  how  1  hate  thee. 

One,  two,  three,  four,  five,  six,  seven, 

Red  I  take,  as  rose  can  be; 
He  for  whom  my  heart  is  grieving, 

Red-rose  lips  are  thine,  wrote  he; 
Long  ago,  the  note  dismembered, 

Scattered  was,  like  leaves  on  snow. 
Still,  the  token  is  remembered; 

How  could  he  deceive  me  so? 

One,  two,  three,  four,  five,  six,  seven, 

Grey  as  twilight,  seven  more! 
Ah!  the  twilight  is  from  heaven. 

And  a  footstep's  at  the  door. 
Am  I  sure?  can  1  dissemble? 

Comes  he  here?  'tis  sweet  to  live! 
Why,  then,  should  1  fear  and  tremble, 

I  still  love  him  and  forgive! 

— From  the  German. 

HURRAH,  GERMANIA. 

HURRAH,  thou  matron  fair  and  proud, 
Hurrah,  Germania! 
Dauntless,  with  figure  forward  bowed, 

The  Rhine  thou  watchest  there! 
Beneath  the  blaze  of  hot  July, 
I  see  thy  sword  flash  forth, 
1  see  thee  rise,  fire  in  thine  eye, 
To  guard  each  home  and  hearth — 
Hurrah,  hurrah,  hurrah, 
Hurrah,  Germania! 


82 

Thou  dreamed'st  not  of  field  and  fight, 

In  peace,  and  joy,  and  rest, 
Reaping  thine  acres,  broad  and  bright 

With  golden  harvest  drest; 
The  sickles  rang,  the  reapers  sang, 

Amidst  those  fields  of  thine, 
When  sudden,  hark!  it  is  war's  clang, 

War's  bugle  o'er  the  Rhine — 
Hurrah,  hurrah,  hurrah, 
Hurrah,  Germania! 

Down  goes  the  sickle  mid  the  corn, 

Down  go  the  sheaves  of  wheat; 
One  instant,  breathest.  thou  in  scorn, 

Then  dost  thy  foeman  greet; 
Com'st  thou  shouting  out  war's  ban, 

The  deed,  the  woe,  be  thine; 
Rise  up,  my  children,  ev'ry  man, 

The  Rhine,  the  Rhine,  the  Rhine — 
Hurrah,  hurrah,  hurrah, 
Hurrah,  Germania! 

Across  the  gulf,  across  the  strait, 

Across  the  German  sea, 
The  Oder  answers  in  war's  gait, 

The  Elbe  girt  I  see; 
Neckar  and  Weser,  swarming  brood, 

Come  tumbling  down  the  Main, 
Forgotten  is  each  old  time  feud, 

One  in  her  proud  disdain — 

Hurrah,  hurrah,  hurrah, 
Hurrah,  Germania! 

Swabian,  Prussian,  hand  in  hand, 
One  host — no  North,  no  South — 

What  is  the  German's  fatherland? 
Drops  now  from  no  man's  mouth; 

One  soul,  one  arm,  one  well-knit  frame, 
One  will  is  ours,  one  way; 


83 

Hurrah,  Germania,  thou  proud  dame, 
Hurrah,  now  dawns  thy  day — 
Huirah,  hurrah,  hurrah, 
Hurrah,  Germania! 

And  now  let  come  whatever  may, 

Stand  fast  and  take  war's  chance; 
This  is  Germania's  glory-day, 

And  woe  betide  thee,  France! 
And  woe  betide  that  robber  chief 

Who  gave  to  thee  war's  brand, 
Who  makes  us  draw,  in  wrath  and  grief, 

For  home,  hearth,  fatherland — 
Hurrah,  hurrah,  hurrah, 
Huirah,  Germania! 

For  home  and  hearth,  for  wife  and  child, 

For  ev'ry  good  we  prize, 
To  keep  them  pure  and  undefiled 

From  Gallic  hands  and  eyes; 
For  German  law  and  German  tongue, 

For  German  ways  and  art, 
For  all  things  sung  in  German  song 

To  war  we  now  depart — 

Hurrah,  hurrah,  hurrah, 
Huirah,  Germania! 

Germania,  up!  and  God  with  thee! 

To  field!  the  die  is  cast; 
Face  to  the  foe  we  soon  must  be, 

The  life-blood  flowing  fast. 
But  fear  thou  not  upon  that  score, 

For  glory  waits  thee  there; 
Great,  noble,  free,  as  ne'er  before; 

Hurrah,  Germania — 

Hurrah,  Victoria! 
Hurrah,  Germania! 


-Freilisnalh. 


84 

MARTIN   LUTHER    AND   BUTCHEli   KLAUS. 

ON  his  dear  Bible,  day  and  night, 
Great  Luther  plodded  with  his  might; 
Better  he  thought  than  tract  or  sermon, 
To  teach  God's  Book  how  to  speak  German. 
The  deeper  study  still  he  gave  it, 
The  better  German  would  he  have  it. 
Until  at  last,  the  sacred  stream 
Should  like  some  crystal  current  seem, 
With  German  idiom,  German  tone 
Flowing  Life's  water  from  God's  throne; 
Bringing  His  will  to  man  so  near, 
Making  His  grace  to  man  so  clear, 
As  though  to  him  it  had  been  given 
To  bring  the  German  straight  from  heaven. 

This  is  his  toil,  his  wish,  his  zeal, 
In  prayer  for  this  he  oft  would  kneel; 
What  seems  so  easy  now  to  know, 
What  reads  to  thee  in  graceful  flow, 
Cost  him,  dear  reader,  cryings  strong; 
He  sweating  wrought  with  conflict  long, 
Forget  not,  now  'tis  clear  as  day, 
Who  thus  for  thee  broke  through  the  way, 
And  though  along  so  smooth  you  glide, 
Just  hold  in  check  your  carnal  pride. 

Behold  him  there,  so  patient  toiling, 

Upon  the  Pentateuch  slow  moiling; 

Compelling  dumb  Leviticus 

To  speak  our  native  tongue  to  us; 

What  God  had  said  to  Irsael, 

Of  flesh  and  blood,  of  oil  and  meal; 

What  both  for  food  and  drink  was  good, 

Off'ring  for  sin  from  gratitude; 

All  written  out,  e'en  to  a  hair, 

No  words  too  few,  no  words  to  spare, 

The  questions  settled,  vexing  all, 

About  the  liver  and  the  caul; 


85 

About  the  loins,  about  the  fat, 

How  wide  was  this,  how  long  was  that, 

In  homely,  sturdy  German  word 

As  ever  humblest  peasant  heard. 

Long  Luther  thought,  long  Luther  mused, 

This  word  he  took,  and  that  refused; 

Until,  without,  he  heard  a  bleating, 

A  sheep  selected  for  their  eating, 

Impatient  stamp  somewhere  repeating. 

Frau  Katie,  she  with  endless  care 
A  well-stored  larder  did  prepare; 
That  when  from  work  he  had  subsided, 
His  food  and  drink  should  be  provided; 
And  so  a  sheep,  a  young  fat  beast, 
She'd  purchased  for  an  evening  feast; 
Had  summoned  there  the  butcher,  too, 
His  office  on  the  sheep  to  do. 

The  butcher  carved  and  then  dissected, 
As  of  a  butcher  is  expected  ? 
While  Luther  said,  when  lie  was  through: 
"  I  should  do  well,  although  a  preacher, 
Could  I  but  have  thee  as  my  teacher!  " 
With  courage,  then,  the  butcher  said: 
11  I'm  sure  your  meaning  must  be  hid, 
Sir  Doctor,  learned  in  arts  of  speech, 
When  Butcher  Klaus  can  Luther  teach." 

11  Thou  call'st  me  Doctor!  well,  I  am, 

But  to  dissect  a  sheep  or  lamb, 

There's  scarce  a  doctor  in  the  land 

The  thing,  I  think,  can  understand; 

Though  much  I  learned  in  school  and  college, 

A  sheep  might  give  me  some  more  knowledge. 

The  poorest  scholar's  pity  wake, 

So,  as  thy  pupil,  me  just  take, 

And  tell  me  all,  as  you  go  on, 

Which  is  the  spleen,  and  what  each  bone, 

The  liver,  stomach,  inwards  show, 


86 

Repeat  them  till  I  each  one  know, 
The  heart,  the  loin,  each  sep'rate  part, 
Until  1  have  them  all  by  heart — 
Till  then  I'll  keep  you  in  my  house." 
And  just  this  thing  did  Butcher  Klaus. 

He  told  it  all,  just  as  he  knew, 
And  Martin  Luther  marked  it  too, 
And  stood  as  patient  and  as  good, 
As  at  some  school  a  pupil  should. 
And  when  the  lesson  was  all  done, 
And  this  new  knowledge  he  had  won, 
The  butcher  thanked  he,  and  for  cheer 
Reached  him  a  foaming  glass  of  beer — 
Then  quick  he  sought  the  sacred  book, 
And  down  the  very  words  he  took, 
Ml  written  out,  e'en  to  a  hair, 
No  word  too  few,  no  word  to  spare; 
And  this  is  why  Leviticus 
Talks  such  good  German  unto  us. 

— Rudolph  Hagenbach. 

THE    SPINNER'S    SONG. 

WHIRLING,  whirling,  whirling, 
Twirling,  twirling,  twirling, 
Little  thread  come  fast  and  fine, 
That  shall  weave  a  veil  of  mine, 
And  beneath  it  hide  me. 

Whirling,  whirling,  whirling, 

Twirling,  twirling,  twirling, 
Weaver,  weave  it  fine  and  soft, 
Shuttle,  bear  it  oft  and  oft, 

To  bedeck  my  bridal. 

Whirling,  whirling,  whirling, 

Twirling,  twirling,  twirling, 
In  and  out,  white  as  the  sea, 
Must  a  maiden's  bosom  be, 

If  white  veil  become  her. 


87 

Whirling,  whirling,  whirling, 

Twirling,  twirling,  twirling, 

White  without  and  white  within. 

Frugal,  modest,  free  from  sin, 

Would  she  grace  a  husband. 


— burger. 


SAY,  WHERE   ARE   THE   VIOLETS    GONE. 

SAY,  where  are  the  violets  gone, 
Late  with  blue  eyes  glancing: 
With  their  crown  of  beauty  on, 

By  our  pathway  dancing  ? 
Darling,  ah!  the  spring  is  fled, 
And  the  violets  are  dead. 


Say,  where  are  the  roses  now, 
Late  we  plucked  with  singing: 

From  fair  bosom  and  fair  brow, 
Their  sweet  fragrance  flinging  ? 

Maiden,  ah!  the  summer's. o'er, 

And  the  roses  bloom  no  more. 


To  the  brook  take  me  again, 
That  the  flowers  were  drinking; 

Murmuring  so  gently  then, 
In  the  valley  blinking. 

Ah!  the  breeze  and  thirsty  sun 

Have  the  little  brook  undone. 


Take  me  then  to  that  fair  place, 

Clad  with  roses  clinging, 
Where  we  saw  each  blooming  face, 

Heard  such  laughter  ringing. 
Wind  and  storm  the  shrine  have  torn; 
It's  neglected  and  forlorn. 


Say,  where  is  the  maiden  fair 

Late  the  garden  tending, 
With  fresh  cheeks  and  golden  hair, 

O'er  the  violets  bending? 
Darling,  all  her  beauty  flies! 
She,  too,  fades  and  droops  and  dies. 

Say,  where  is  the  singer  gone, 
Who  once  sang  their  praises, 

Put  in  verse  the  things  now  flown, 
Treading  summer's  mazes  ? 

Hushed,  ah!  hushed  the  singer's  breath, 

Like  the  rest  he's  cold  in  death. 


-Ffom  the  German. 


THE   GERMAN    WATCHMAN. 

HEAR,  what  I  to  you  am  telling, 
Tis  ten,  the  town-clock  now  is  knelling. 
Pray,  and  to  bed,  I  counsel  you, 
And  my  best  wishes  with  you,  too. 
Sleep  soft  and  sweet.     All  night  there  wakes 
An  eye  serene,  no  slumber  takes. 

Hear,  what  I  to  you  am  telling, 

Eleven  now  the  clock  is  knelling, 

And  you  who  still  at  work  are  sweating, 
Or,  at  your  games,  the  hour  forgetting, 
'This  final  warning,  loud  I  call: 
'Tis  time  for  bed,  high  time  for  all. 

Hear,  what  1  to  you  am  telling, 
The  solemn  clock  now  twelve  is  knelling. 
He,  who  still  wakes  at  noon  of  night 
With  heavy  heart,  in  sorry  plight, 
God's  peace  be  spoken  to  his  breast; 
And  soundly  may  he  sink  to  rest. 


8y 

Hear,  what  I  to  you  am  telling, 
'Tis  one,  'tis  one,  the  clock  is  knelling. 
Thou,  who  through  Satan's  rede  and  measures, 
Art  lurking  round  for  other's  treasures, 
I  will  not  hope  that  man  may  seize  thee; 
Go  home!     There's  One  who'll  not  release  thee. 

Hear,  what  I  to  you  am  telling, 
The  clock,  the  clock  now  two  is  knelling. 
Thou,  who  shalt  see  day's  glorious  dawn, 
Grief's  gnawing  tooth  thy  heart  upon, 
Poor  one,  God  cares,  be  not  faint-hearted, 
His  thoughts  from  thee  have  not  departed. 

Hear,  what  I  to  you  am  telling, 

At  length  the  town-clock  three  is  knelling. 

In  East,  the  morning  comes  with  gold, 

And  gladly  we,  the  day  behold. 

Thank  God!     Go  on  in  joyful  mood, 

Begin  thy  work,  abide  thou  good. 


-Hebel. 


NEATH   ROSE   AND   FORGETMENOT. 
11  Die  Mutter  lehnt  am  schatigen  Thor.n 

A  MOTHER  leaned  by  a  shaded  gate; 
Her  daughter  glowing  in  girlhood  state, 
Fair-haired,  brought  rose  and  forgetmenot. 
Kissed  her  and  spake  thus  her  loving  thought: 
"  Mother,  when  I  shall  be  grown  like  you, 
Within  the  house  all  the  work  I'll  do; 
To  care  for  you  be  my  only  lot, 
As  now  for  rose  and  forgetmenot. 

The  years  passed  on — by  the  shaded  gate 
The  lilac  grew  up  so  tall  and  great. 
A  maiden  leaned  on  her  lover's  arm 
Her  heart  so  true,  beating  high  and  warm; 


9° 

Caressed  full  oft  on  her  cheek  and  mouth 
Came  back  to  her,  then,  her  childhood  sooth: 
And  she  for  whom  was  that  loving  thought, 
Now  slept  neath  rose  and  forgetmenot. 


— Bottler. 


SLEEP,   NURSLING,   SLEEP. 

'  LEEP,  nursling,  sleep! 

>     Father '11  keep  the  bleating  sheep; 
Mother'll  shake  the  little  tree, 
That  shall  drop  sweet  dreams  to  thee — 
Sleep,  nursling,  sleep. 

Sleep,  nursling,  sleep! 
Night's  blue  steep  is  full  of  sheep; 
Little  stars  are  little  lambs, 
That  run  skipping  with  their  dams —  , 

Sleep,  nursling,  sleep. 

Sleep,  nursling,  sleep! 
Do  not  peep.     I'll  buy  a  sheep, 
With  a  tinkling,  golden  bell; 
You  shall  love  him  long  and  well — 

Sleep,  nursling,  sleep. 

Sleep,  nursling,  sleep! 

Silence  keep,  nor  bleat  like  sheep; 

Else  the  shepherd's  dog  will  come, 

Bite  the  naughty  baby  some- 
Sleep,  nursling,  sleep. 

Sleep,  nursling,  sleep! 
Do  not  weep.     Go  keep  the  sheep, 
Swarthy,  little  barking  cur, 
Waking  baby  with  your  stir. — 

Sleep,  nursling,  sleep. 

— From  the  German, 


INDEX 


SACRED. 

Bethlehem  and  Golgotha 7 

One  Desire  Have  I  Above  all  Others 9 

Be  Joyful,  all  Ye  Near  and  Far 10 

All  Hail,  Thou  Sacrificial  Man 12 

The  Angel  of  Patience 13 

An  Easter  Greeting 14 

All  that  God  Doth,  He  Doeth  Well 15 

0  Head,  all  Blood,  all  Wounded 17 

Heav'nward  goes  Our  Pathway  on 19 

The  Quiet  Little  Acre-Lot 20 

1  Hail  thee,  O,  thou  Shepherd  Good 21 

A  New  Year's  Prayer 23 

The  Battle  Song  of  Gustavus  Adolphus ! 24 

A  Morning  Hymn 25 

The  Night  is  No  Man's  Friend 26 

In  the  Garden 27 

Light  of  Lights,  Enlighten  Me 28 

In  Jesus'  Holy  Name  We  Stand 30 

Weep  Thou  Not,  God's  Living  Yet 31 

The  Shepherd  for  His  Flock  is  Dying 32 

A  Christian,  Cross-less  Cannot  Be 33 

Luther's  Hymn 35 

God  Lives,  how  can  I  Mournful  be 36 

My  Last  Will  and  Testament 37 

Forbear,  My  Heart 39 

Gold,  Frankincense,  Myrrh 40 

God  in  His  World 41 

Through  Trouble  and  Through  Sorrow 42 

The  Heavenly  Hymn  of  Angelus 43 

Our  Times,  Lord,  Thou  Upholdest 46 

What  We  Shall  Be 48 

Blessed,  Blessed,  Tht'ir  Condition  50 

Into  Thy  Father's  Hands 51 


Where  Can  I  Find  the  Master? 52 

Ask,  to  Thee  it  Shall  Be  Given 53 

Jerusalem,  Thou  Mother  Town 54 

My  Jesus,  as  Thou  Wilt 56 

The  Year  Again  is  Ending 57 

A  Child's  Prayer 58 

Jerusalem,  Town  of  the  King 59 

Ah,  My  Heart,  to  it  Give  Up 61 

Dearer  the  Child,  the  Stroke  Severer 62 

God  Cares  for  Me 63 


SECULAR. 

The  Weeping  Mother 67 

Clouds  of  Evening 67 

Heaven's  Trefoil  68 

Christine  Wulpens 68 

Tears  69 

After  Snow.. 69 

Hail  to  Thee,  Schiller 70 

Lenora 71 

The  Niobe  of  Nations 78 

Stitching  Tapestry 80 

Hurrah,  Germania 81 

Martin  Luther  and  Butcher  Klaus 84 

The  Spinner's  Song 86 

Say,  Where  are  the  Violets  Gone 87 

The  German  Watchman 88 

Neath  Rose  and  Forgetmenot 89 

Sleep,  Nursling,  Sleep 90 


